Blood Curses and Malfoys
by Nebel Engel
Summary: "Do you think you are the only one with problems, Granger?" Draco stood in front of her, anger written all over his face. DMHG Set after Voldermort's defeat, Hermione and Draco must face an arranged marriage, their families, and each other.
1. Part I: A Storm is Coming

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: After her parents die, Hermione finds out she is a pureblood. Months later she realises she has no other choice but to marry Draco Malfoy in order to save her life. Hermione and Draco both tell their past story and try to cope with it in the present time.

A/N: This is my attempt at Hermione's pureblood and forced to marry Draco idea.

-This is story is not compatible with the epilogue.

-Half the story is told from Hermione or Draco's POV, and the other half is the present time, that's until the second part of it.

-This first chapter is the longest (8,000 words), the following usually aren't more than 4 thousand, in the second part (since chapter 9 I think), they are 2 thousand words long.

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**Hermione's Story - Part I - **

"This can't be happening" That's what I first thought when I, Hermione Granger, found myself standing on an altar and staring silently at Draco Malfoy. Life could be funny sometimes; not in a humorous way, but in an odd disillusioned way.

I was wearing antique white robes, while his were black. My hair was tied in a bun and decorated with tiny white flowers. Expensive and traditional jewelry adorned my neck and arms. And my make up covered the dark circles underneath my eyes from a sleepless night.

Draco didn't look happy either, and he tried to act indifferently. But I could tell he felt pity for me, much more than for himself. I had grown to know a thing or two about him in these past few months, after all. Perhaps he didn't feel badly about getting married to me at all, perhaps he didn't really care. But I hardly believe he would have chosen me as his bride had he had the chance.

It turned out he actually had feelings, like a real human being. But that didn't mean I had completely changed my mind about him. I just didn't think he was a cold hearted idiot anymore.

He had tried to be nice to me so I could have a chance to like him in hopes that it wouldn't be that bad to get married. He didn't mind losing his freedom, I learned, he said he had never had any freedom anyways, and neither had I... Though I disagreed with him at first, later I realized he was right. I was tied to this and there was no way out.

He wouldn't be about to marry me if I were a muggleborn, like I thought I was ever since I learned about the wizarding world, about 10 years ago, when I received my letter. Those were such happy times when I think back...back when I was so young and innocent, back when I didn't have to deal with things like an adult and I only had to worry about studying and my friends...and about the Dark Lord some time after.

Half a year after the war, I realized strange things started happening around me. They weren't just happening to me, but to my parents, too. It is so hard when I think back on how they sacrificed themselves for. It all began the first week of December, when a chandelier almost killed me. I was inches away from death...in fact, I would have probably died if Ron hadn't been close by. He instinctively threw himself at me and we rolled and rolled on the floor, far from the crashing. We didn't understand how could that have happened. The chandelier's chain just broke off...for no apparent reason.

I didn't think much about it anyway, strange things do happen, after all...but I couldn't thank Ron enough for saving me from such a painful fate, so I decided to bake him a cake.

What I couldn't understand was why half an hour before the cake was due, the oven was on fire. Thank Merlin I had my wand and I could control the fire myself. But blimey, no magic I knew could fix the ashes of a burned cake.

After cleaning it all, I started preparing another cake, I was not going to give up. Luckily for me, there was no problem that time. I managed to prepare the chocolate cake I had planned to bake before with no accidents. Ron liked it so much, I still remember his smiling face when I gave him the cake, he looked like a sweet little boy who had just received a present he had longed after for so long.

That day he shared the cake with all of his family, I was there as well, of course, nothing too terrible happened-but the chair I sat on broke. Mrs. Weasley thought that it was just another one of Fred and George's jokes...and broke down in tears when she realized what she had just said, for Fred wasn't there with us any longer.

George, who had been depressed ever since his twin had died, broke down along with his mother as well. The family reunion was completely ruined, and somehow I felt it was all my fault. When I realized that was a selfish thought I started crying, too. It didn't make it better that Ron realized it and hugged me gently, for I should have been the one comforting him. He wasn't going to cry, I guess he had shed enough tears already.

About a week later, I found my mother cleaning a wound my father had on his arm, it was a deep cut. I worriedly asked them what had happened. My father told me to calm down, he had fallen off the roof. I didn't ask why nor how, I was just so relieved he was fine.

I wanted to help him, but he wouldn't let me, I didn't understand why then, he only told me it wasn't something for me to concern myself with. My mother told me to obey and go to sleep. It was odd, it wasn't normal for them to tell me to go to my room and sleep as if I was a young child. I did it anyway.

Not too long after, I was hanging out with Harry, who had come by to visit me. I told him what had happened at the Weasleys' house. He felt badly about Fred, too, it still was something hard for all of us to digest. Fred had been such a happy person, he had felt such joy for life, seeing him could make anyone's day. He and his twin could make anyone laugh and smile, despite all problems.

Days passed by normally, it had been almost a week since my father's accident. Nothing terrible had happened, but both him and me seemed to have bad luck chasing after us. We would get bruises out of nowhere, my father would get headaches quite often, I would lose things every now and then...

Just a few days after breaking up with Ron over a stupid fight, I fell sick. I hadn't been sick since I was about 8 years old. I had a surprisingly strong case of...a cold. It was a rough winter.

I got such a strong fever I barely realised what was happening around me. My parents were so worried about me, my mother stayed by my side most of the time, though I barely noticed her.

I didn't see much of my father those days, and my cold didn't seem to be about to leave. One day, when my fever finally fell a few degrees, I was finally awake, laying down on my bed, alone and hungry, which was an improvement, for it had been really hard for me to eat. I also realized I had spent at least three days laying there on my bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom, with my mother's help, for I could have fainted had I gone alone.

At first I thought it had been the fever that made me hear things, but later on I knew I wasn't that sick.

Since I felt like getting up that night, I went down the stairs carefully, passed through the living room and directly to the kitchen. Before I could get in there, I heard my parents' voices, my mother was almost hysterical, my father, I could tell, was trying not to lose his calmness. He sounded so worried though.

"This is not normal, you have to fix this!" my mother said, I didn't understand why she was so upset with my father.

"I have been trying for 16 years. I think there's no other way out, but it would be so unfair for Hermione." He sighed so loudly I could even hear it behind the closed door.

"Perhaps...perhaps if you contact her, perhaps she has a solution."

"You know as well as I do what her solution is. I can't let that happen..." He sighed again. "I have been fighting for her freedom for so long." He added as an afterthought.

"This is going to take you down, too. And when that happens, what will be of Hermione? The spell will wear off and they'll find her! You are trying to avoid the unavoidable! Just let her find Hermione before any of you gets killed, please... try to get to an arrangement...besides, this is going to affect your, son too." By then I honestly believed I was hallucinating. My mother didn't understand anything about spells...and my father couldn't have a son. I was their only child.

"I am not so worried about him, I know his mother is protecting him well..."

"Then it's not unavoidable, is it? Use dark magic if you have to!"

"Even dark magic has a limit, darling, and I have been out of practice for a long time. I think we should tell her first."

"You are giving up." By then I had accepted I was dreaming.

"You are only a muggle! You have no idea of how big this is!" My father was screaming at this point, and my mother started crying.

"You had never called me that before." She seemed to take it as an insult, but in that context, I would have probably taken it like that as well. My mother had to stop dead in her tracks when she stormed out of the room for I was there, right in front of her when she opened the door.

My fever was going up, for I started feeling colder and colder. I was still thinking I was dreaming.

"How does the dream go on, mum?" I asked innocently, half conscious.

"Oh dear..." she said worriedly, both because she realized I had heard too much and because I was about to faint.

I could feel my mother's arms catch me before I hit the floor and everything went black.

I woke up five days later from what I have been told. I was lying on a hospital bed, next to me there was a beautiful woman, with blond hair, really deep brown eyes, tender pale skin, her blond locks tied in a perfect bun, she couldn't be older than 40, she looked perfect, so elegant, and somehow familiar. She stared dreamily at me, it kind of scared me at first, but when she realized I was awake, she showed me such a warm smile, it just felt right.

She caressed my head lovingly, like a mother, and said sweetly to me: "My dear girl, you are finally awake."

"Who are you?" This was the first thing I needed to know, I had easily realized I was in a hospital room.

"Let's say I am a friend. Don't you worry about anything, you need your rest. You have been here for three days, we were worried sick. Thank Merlin the healers could control your disease. I think everything will be quite all right for now."

"You are a witch."

"You are such a bright girl." I would have thought that was sarcasm if she hadn't been staring at me so lovingly and speaking with her sweet voice.

"Where are my parents?" I wanted to tell her she was making me feel uncomfortable, but it would have been rude.

"Oh, don't you worry about them, why don't we feed you something now? You haven't had any real food to eat for days!"

I was a little bit dizzy, I wanted to see my parents and I didn't understand who that woman was. It was all too odd. She saw me place a hand upon my stomach and realized I wasn't feeling well.

"You haven't eaten solid food for days, dear, I'll get you something." I saw her take out her wand and summon food, from the hospital's kitchen I guessed.

"Who are you?" I was getting annoyed.

"Honey, please, just eat this and try to rest..."

"Why should I obey you? Who are you to me? You don't look like a healer, you certainly don't look like someone to assist the sick! Where are my parents?" I was regaining consciousness and I couldn't bear it anymore.

She looked kind of hurt, she was about to say something when a healer entered the room. A woman in her 40s as well, she shooed the blond woman out and tried to calm me down. I felt helpless.

"What's going on?" I asked sadly.

"If you could only calm down, my child. You've got to breathe, breathe deeply."

I did as I was told and it worked just fine, I calmed down, but I was still in a hurry, I needed to know were my parents were.

"Why aren't my parents here with me? I don't understand..."

She didn't hesitate to ignore my questions. "Your friends have come to visit, I'll let them come in here if you eat all your food, can you do that, sweetie?"

I just stared at her. "Where are my parents?"

She just sighed and said, "They had an accident."

Understanding hit me like a sack of bricks. My parents were dead.

Tears began straming down my face, I couldn't believe my ears. "They are...are they..."

"Yes, they are dead. I am sorry for your loss." She tried to soothe me with her soft words, she even tried to hug me but I pushed her away and threw the food tray at the wall.

The healer left, realizing I needed some time alone. I don't know how long I cried before I fell asleep again. But I slept all night long and through the whole morning as well...I didn't want to wake up, I wanted it all to be a dream, a really bad dream.

When Harry and Ron entered the room, I was refusing to eat. Two healers were trying to convince me to do so, I think they would have forced me if my friends hadn't arrived.

I felt like dying. Honestly, what was there for me to live—what purpose? My friends couldn't say anything, they knew no words they said would make anything better. They just hugged me.

I don't know how long it was when I finally had no more tears, I just couldn't go on crying, I was so tired. Perhaps it was an hour, perhaps two.

Harry and Ron sat one at each side of my bed. Harry gripped my hand strongly. Ron didn't know what to say, he was so concerned and nervous, I could tell.

We were all silent for a while, until I asked softly: "How did it happen?" Then, Harry told me, still holding my hand, that my parents had been in a car accident, apparently while they were taking me to a hospital. I suffered a concussion, and the fever didn't make it any better. If the paramedics hadn't arrived there on time, I would have died in a matter of minutes. They didn't arrive soon enough to save my parents, though.

"It was an awful tragedy," Harry said sadly.

"We are so sorry, Hermione, if there is anything we can do..."

I started crying once again before Ron could finish his sentence.

I cried myself to sleep again, I woke up about 10 hours later, so weak I couldn't do anything. Harry and Ron were still in my room, talking to a couple of healers. When they realized I had woken up, the healers left, leaving me alone with my friends again.

I stared at them tiredly. They showed me a tray of food and asked me to eat; I refused.

"You've got to eat something, Hermione, come on."

I said nothing, I only stared to the wall.

"It's not the end of the world, Hermione, I know it might seem as it is...but-"

"How come it's not? What am I going to do without my parents? They were all the family I had...they were my family! Don't you realize it? I have no more family, they are gone..." My voice was broken, just like my heart; I shed some tears again, I was so tired of doing that, but I couldn't help it.

"But it's not about me...it's about them...they...they didn't deserve to die!"

Ron went by my side and hugged me again, letting my sob on his arms. He didn't say anything, he just stayed by my side. That made me feel a little bit better. Only a little.

When I could stop crying, Harry spoke, slowly: "I always thought of you and Ron as my family...and the rest of the Weasleys. I can't say I have no one left, Hermione, because I actually do."

I looked at him sadly, and said, "I didn't mean that, Harry."

"I know you didn't mean that, I am just saying you are not alone." Ron let go of me and nodded.

"Thank you," was all I managed to say.

"Will you eat something now?" Ron asked. I sighed and nodded, I wasn't really ready to move on, but I knew I had to.

I was quite weak, but I managed to sit up and eat. Ron tried to distract me.

"You'll never guess who we saw here!"

"Who?" I asked, not really interested.

"Narcissa Malfoy. We heard something about Malfoy, I bet he's here."

"We didn't actually see him, we saw his mother talking to a healer." Harry added.

"Oh..." I didn't know what to say, Draco Malfoy wasn't a subject of interest for me.

Days passed by, but my depression wouldn't go away. Being in a hospital is very difficult, whether it's muggle or not. As a patient, a lot of things are done to you at inconvenient times and it can feel very much like you have no control. The healers tried to make me eat, to bathe me, to talk to me...I had no control over anything; especially over myself.

I wasn't hungry most of the time, so I refused eating and I lost some weight; I refused to be bathed, so I wasn't too clean; and I refused to speak to my healers when they tried to help me, so they didn't trust me much. They even offered me potions to make my depression go away, but I wasn't going to just "erase" my pain with magic.

My parents were dead, and I had to deal with it.

Two weeks later, I was still in the hospital, dealing with my depression. My friends would visit me almost every day, they tried to cheer me up, but they couldn't get one single smile on my face. Until one day Ron said something stupid and I laughed.

It wasn't much, it wasn't strong, but it was something. My friends stared at me happily, I didn't realise why until they told me.

"It's so good to see you smile." Harry said.

I was still sad and depressed, but after two weeks, I felt I needed to get out of there and move on.

"It's good to smile...I guess," I acknowledged sadly. "My pain won't go away, boys, but I've got to move on."

"You can, Hermione, you can. We'll help you."

"You can live with me at the Burrow!"

"Or move with me at Grimmauld Place."

Both made me smile slightly again. "I don't know, I don't want to think about that right now."

They nodded and kept talking to me about silly things to distract me. Ron mentioned something about his father's obssesion with muggle cars; that made me remember the day I woke up at the hospital and a nurse told me about the accident. I shed a single tear...and I recalled the moment when I woke up and saw that strange woman waiting for me.

"Guys, do you know who the blond woman waiting here for me was? She was here when I first woke up, she wouldn't tell me who she was...she was too nice to me, it was kind of weird." I wasn't all that interested, but I was desperate to change the subject.

Both boys stared at each other silently.

"We were hoping you would tell us. We thought she would be some relative of yours." I could smell the lies.

"I don't have any." I couldn't say much more, my voice was cracking again. "Don't lie to me!" I almost shouted.

Ron was the one to spill it out, "She's your real mother."

I stared at him blankly, I barely realized Harry pushing him and calling him stupid.

"She was going to start crying again!" Ron tried to defend himself.

"She wasn't supposed to find out so soon, you idiot! It's too much for her!"

Realization hit them when Harry said that; both boys recalled I was there, and stared at me, worry all over their faces.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked.

I was silent for a moment. "You mean I am adopted?" I asked slowly.

Both of them sighed and sat down again. Ron on a chair, Harry by my side on the bed.

"We don't know how the story is exactly. All we know is that when we got here, there was a blond tall woman complaining because they didn't let her see her daughter, right outside your room. The healer she was talking to told her the girl's parents were dead, and she said she was her real mother. Then they went into an office and they didn't come out until an hour later. Some other people from the hospital kept going in and out of the office. Narcissa Malfoy suddenly came and went there as well. When they came out, the healers let the woman go into your room."

I listened carefully to Harry, not fully understanding, it was all so unreal.

"Ron's parents were here too, they asked the healers what had happened and they told us that woman was your real mother."

"They told us she said your father ran away with you when you were two years old, and she couldn't find you until your father died because of some antique magic he had performed on both you and him so you wouldn't be found by her until he died," Ron added carefully.

I said nothing for a while, until Harry asked me if I was all right.

"I can't handle this anymore, boys...I just can't." A lonely tear fell down my face and I laid down on the bed again, staring at the ceiling. I didn't really feel like sleeping, I only wanted to think.

"You don't have to see her just now; she said she would wait for you as long as you need." Ron assured me.

I took my time to answer. "Good; because I don't really feel like seeing anyone right now." I said softly, not really willing to hurt their feelings. Fortunately, they understood.

"We'll leave you alone to rest, then. We'll be out there in the waiting room if you need us." Harry emphasized.

I nodded silently, still staring at the ceiling. I sighed when I heard them closing the door.

It was all so hard...I wondered if my life could get any worse; later, I learned it could.

After the boys told me that, I refused to have any visitors in days. I was so down in the dumps. It wasn't until a week later I decided to meet her.

I still think of her as "biological", I can't think of her as my mother...as my mum.

She was so happy to see me when I let her in; but I couldn't even say "hello" when I saw her, I only wanted answers.

"Why?" was the first thing I asked her, not really willing to be more explicit.

She sat on a chair next to me and attempted to hold my hand; I didn't let her; she didn't seem to be under stress of any kind so I assumed it was for me. She seemed perfectly content anyway.

"I never meant for this to happen, Hermione. Your father left with you and I could never find you, not until now," she said softly.

"Why would my father take me away from my mother? He loved me...he wasn't a selfish person; you must have done something to hurt him."

She sure knew what I was going to ask, and exactly what to answer.

"Nothing I tell you will change things, honey. You can guess what happened. Human relationships are not always logical; he didn't want to be with me anymore, and neither of us wanted to leave you behind. He knew the law wouldn't give him full custody, so he ran away with you, he just loved you too much to leave without you."

I only stared at her. She seemed to be telling the truth, or perhaps she just was very good at lying. That seemed to be a reasonable explanation though. My father did love me a lot...he couldn't have been better. "No...he wouldn't have...he couldn't have..." My heart was in my throat, but I didn't want to cry.

"I'll understand if you don't believe me, dear. You have a perfect image of your father, and I am just a strange woman who claims differently. The worst thing is no one you know and trust can tell you for sure I am telling the truth. But tests have already been performed and proven what I am saying. I know that doesn't make me any better, but at least you can know you really are my daughter."

A healer had already shown me tests results. I didn't want to believe her, but I did, I had no choice.

"I know," I almost whispered. I didn't want to look at her, I didn't feel comfortable; I just stared at the wall.

She was quiet for a moment, I could tell she was smiling even though I wasn't looking at her. "My picture has been in the magical media for some years now, ever since the Triwizard Tournament. How come you never recognized me? You don't read newspapers?"

"Of course I do, darling. Your father had placed a repelling charm on you. No one in your family, except your father, could recognize you. I saw photos of you lots of times, and I read about you and your friends, but I could have never imagined it was you."

" I guess it makes sense." I looked at her, straight in the eyes, not saying anything, just thinking; it did make sense, and she actually was my mother. I still didn't want it to be true though; my other mother, the one who had raised me most of my life, still was the person I had loved the most, along with my father. "But you can't replace my mum."

She didn't look hurt, she just didn't seem to have been affected by that. She didn't hesitate to answer. "I don't expect to replace anyone, darling, I only wish to be a mother to you. The way it should have been ever since you were born."

I didn't answer, I didn't want to. "You are of age now. You can do whatever you want with your life. Regarding the muggle world, you have now everything your father and his wife had, so I am guessing you don't have to worry about having a house and furniture; but I would really like you to come back to live with me, we could recover the lost time."

I thought about it. I wasn't too sure about what I wanted to do with my life, but I was getting tired of living in a hospital room. I had imagined myself living with her in a very elegant house, with lots and lots of books. She looked like a smart woman who enjoyed reading. I had wondered lots of times, lying there in that bed, what kind of mother she would be.

"I don't know." I sighed.

"We could get to know each other, you, me and your brother too." She said that excitedly as she took a picture from her purse.

"My brother?" I hadn't thought about having any siblings. That was something new.

"Yes, my sweet boy." She showed me the picture, there she was, sitting in the grass, with two little children on her lap. I recognized myself, I had seen pictures of me at that age, I just had never seen any magical one. I was giggling, my biological mother was laughing, and the other baby was waving, he had blond curly hair, he looked so adorable.

"Your brother and you were a year and a half old back then. Such happy times."

"We are twins then...is he a wizard? Did he go to Hogwarts?"

"Fraternal twins. You don't look alike, but you do have the same curly hair, you got that from me. And you have my eyes and my mouth too, but you look so much like your father, Hermione."

I realized she was right, we did have the same eye colour. It was kind of comforting, but weird too.

"Your brother is a wizard, yes, everyone in our family is. He is such a bright boy. I hope you two will get along just fine. He went to Hogwarts, of course. He told me you were a classmate of his."

"Who is he?" I thought of every single classmate I had, and I couldn't imagine any of them could be brother of mine.

"Blaise Zabini, surely you know him."

Saying I was startled would be an understatement.

"I am a Zabini?" The idea of being a member of a rich and old pureblood family whose members were all Slytherins didn't suit me much..."I am related to Slytherins..."

"I was in Slytherin too, honey. I guess you weren't sorted there because ever since you found out about magic, you didn't know you were a pureblood, and thus, wouldn't care enough about that house."

A sudden surge of anger came all over me, anger and fear. "You are a deatheather?" I didn't like the whole scenario.

"No, no. Not everyone in Slytherin is a deatheather, honestly. No one in our family was one. The Dark Lord didn't care enough about us, nor did we care enough about him." Her eyes were calm, and her voice was so gentle I could tell she wasn't lying.

"But you did not fight him."

"I don't fight if it doesn't affect me or my family." That was so Slytherin-like. And I did not like it.

She realized it, probably by my fierce and piercing stare.

"Don't be unfair, Hermione. You can't hate me because of that. If I had known he was after my little girl, I would have fought him in every way I could."

"It's not that." I said, not wanting to meet her eyes anymore.

"I know it will take time to remake our relationship, dear. But do remember that I will be there if you need me."

Two days went by and my friends came by again. Harry and Ron already knew I was a Zabini by then. They assured me my family couldn't be that bad, Ron even told me his family had a couple of Slytherin friends; now that was something, especially coming from Ron.

I wasn't too sure about trusting a Slytherin anyway, even if she claimed to be my mother. But perhaps it wasn't all that bad.

I asked the boys what to do. That in and of itself was something quite odd, it's usually them who ask me what to do. The thing is, I really didn't know if I should accept her offer and go live with her and Blaise, I mean, what was that going to be like? Was Blaise going to be nice to me? I couldn't even remember having spoken to him back at school.

They urged me to try, the Zabinis were my family, after all. And if they weren't good enough for me, I could just leave.

I didn't know if I was ready, but I knew they were right. I was scared, but at the same time, it was something I wanted to do, though I still hadn't gotten over my parents' death.

As a matter of fact, I still haven't gotten over it, and it's now been around half a year.

**-Present Time**

"Miss Zabini?"

"Hermione!" Draco whispered, trying to get her to pay him attention.

"Huh?" Hermione looked up suddenly, the priest was talking to her; she still couldn't get used to be called "Zabini", especially when daydreaming.

The ceremony was being held in the great hall of a huge castle, a place were magical weddings were usually celebrated. It was summer time and the sun was setting.

She only watched as Draco took her hand and placed the ring on her finger, he was expecting her to do the same thing, but she hesitated. It was something he had foreseen, of course.

"Don't be scared." Draco whispered softly to her, hoping she would listen and go on with the ceremony.

Hermione stared at him, she did look quite scared and nervous. She knew she had no choice. So, slowly, she placed the ring on Draco's finger, never daring to meet his eyes. All she could think about was how her now-meaningless dreams were taken from her, how her hopes had been shattered.

"Please, do hold hands now," said the priest.

Draco grabbed both her hands this time and tried to meet her eyes. He could tell by her trembling ones that she didn't want to hold his.. Draco was a short-tempered man, but he understood what Hermione was going through.

Fortunately, it was a private ceremony, and everyone invited knew why they were getting married. So it wouldn't be a surprise if Hermione decided to disapparate and leave him at the altar.

The magical wedding ritual included the exchanging of rings and an incantation the groom and the bride had to pronounce together.

"Look at me, please," Draco asked her softly. Hermione forced herself to meet his eyes, even though she didn't want the incantation to work, both of them needed it to.

"Ab imo pectore..." Draco started calmly.

Hermione sighed as she raised her head to meet Draco's deep gray eyes and repeated: "Ab imo pectore..."

"Auferat hora duos eadem." Both finished together.

Their rings sparkled; and both felt a warm sensation go through their bodies. They were married.

"It's over," Hermione whispered as she let go of his hands and snapped her eyes away from his.

"Don't be so sure." His lips were upon hers as soon as the sentence had escaped his mouth and she could feel his arms quickly winding their way around to the middle of her back.

When he broke the kiss, Hermione wasn't smiling. Her stare turned to one full of anger.

"It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages." The priest finished the ceremony with a wave of his wand; Hermione took the chance to disapparate, the ceremony was over anyway.

"I guess this means there will be no reception." Draco said to his mother as he walked down the altar.

Narcissa hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, that's not a problem."

Mrs. Zabini, who had been standing next to Narcissa, sighed and smiled when Narcissa let her hug her son.

"Do you think she'll come back?" Draco asked as Hyppolyta hugged him.

"No, of course not. You'll have to go look for her.".

Blaise shook his hand and smiled. "Good luck, you'll need it."

Wedding days should be filled with love and joy, even for the groom. But this was an arranged marriage, Draco reminded himself.

"I know." Draco drawled as he disapparated.

Hermione was on her parents' house, sitting on the couch and watching news. She was still wearing her wedding robes. There was a look of sadness all over her face.

Draco apparated suddenly in front of her, blocking the TV.

"How did you find me?" She didn't look sad anymore, just plain angry. Normally, news would sooth her troubled mind, distracting her, but tonight was her dreadful wedding night. Her mind was a whirlwind of anger and depression.

"Where else would you have gone to?" Draco said casually as he sat next to her on the couch and smiled.

"You do realize we have been married for about fifteen minutes and you are already getting on my nerves, don't you?" Hermione snapped.

"Hush, darling, there's no need for anger. Anger only breeds conflict. We shouldn't fight on our wedding night." His chiding and smug tone didn't make her feel any better.

She closed her eyes and bit her lips to keep from cursing aloud. Hermione hated to admit it, but Draco was right, she had to control her emotions.

"I know what you are trying, Malfoy, but nothing you say tonight can make this be alright." She said warningly as Draco smirked.

"It could be alright if you wanted it to be alright. I want things to work out between us. The least we can do is try."

Hermione turned to look at him; he didn't look too troubled, he was even smiling at her. She didn't feel well, her head was aching, her heart was in her throat, and it just was not fair.

"I don't want to be married to you."

Draco could only sigh, his smile now gone. He wasn't going to give up though. He only had to be nice and pay her lots of attention, Lucius explained to him that girls always were demanding care and attention.

"Come on, I can't be that bad. As you can see I am handsome and charming, too." Hermione knew he was just joking, even though he actually believed what he said. Anyways, she was not in the mood for jokes; she didn't want to fight either, so, she chose to ignore him and keep watching the muggle news.

"So, we are married and you don't want us to live happily ever after, that's alright. You'll come around some day." His voice was commanding and in control, but at the same time had a playful quality.

She didn't even flinch though. Draco wondered if she was actually listening to him. He sighed and looked up to the ceiling. He remained calm, trying to "enjoy" her company, and hoping she would feel better eventually.

Silence didn't last long.

"When are you planning on leaving?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him in a very challenging manner.

"Will you like me any better if I leave?"

"Not really." She let out a sigh.

"Then I see no need of leaving you alone." Draco said coolly as he casually placed his arm around her shoulders; she could feel his breath upon her neck as he got closer to her.

Hermione felt the urge to slap him, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She felt powerless, helpless and quite frustrated. It was quite annoying to have Draco trying to get her to like him.

He gently caressed her neck, but she shifted nervously, turned her head and pleaded: "Please, don't."

Draco opened his eyes and stared at her, wondering how long it would take her to like him. He had thought she would like that, at least he thought women liked being held and caressed.

"You only make things harder," Hermione said sadly as she tried to push him away.

"So do you." This time, his voice was dry and hoarse, as he got up and turned the TV off. One thing he had learned about muggle objects was that the bigger button always shut them up.

"I just don't know what do you expect; honestly, Malfoy, I don't love you, I don't like you, I never wanted to have anything to do with you. Do you really believe that if you behave nice around me, as if you had been gentle towards me your whole life, I'll end up falling for you and we'll have children and become a big happy family?" she snarled, determined to say everything in her mind.

Draco was troubled. He was getting tired, the truth was that he liked Hermione, he felt attached to her, not only for the marriage deal, but also because he had grown to know lots of things about her, he really felt he knew her, he felt they could be a happy couple some day; but she wasn't cooperating at all, and he couldn't help getting angry after a half an hour of trying to reason with her.

"Look at me in the eye and tell me you hate me." His voice was demanding, his tone was even more stern.

When her eyes met his, everything seemed to freeze until she spoke again. She felt as if she had swallowed broken glass as she softly said, "I don't hate you."

"Then we still have hope." Suddenly, he smiled again, and became animated. Perhaps some day she would like him...but why was she sobbing?

"You don't...you don't get it, do you?"

Draco felt it was better not to answer back to a depressed and hysterical Hermione.

"My father's death was in vain! Everything he fought for now is lost. My father left the magical world and spent 16 years of his life hiding... he died...and my mum with him, and she had nothing to do with all this! And I could do nothing...I just gave up."

He was about to say something and counter her irrational logic, but she dismissed it with her hand.

"And this useless marriage...it's loveless, hopeless, what's the use of it? Honestly, if I weren't a pureblood you wouldn't be this calm and happy, you'd be outraged! If we hadn't been betrothed...if there had not been a curse upon our families and us, would you have even looked at me? Of course not! You would have married some other rich girl. And what if I wasn't rich, huh? What if I wasn't a Zabini? You never, ever cared about me until you found out who I really was!"

"But-"

"But why would you have? I was never the prettiest girl back at school, nor the richest, I was never up to your standards; I wasn't even considered a pureblood back then. That's all you care about: looks, money, and blood." She was screaming at this point, and Draco couldn't help feeling outraged.

"Do you think you are the only one with problems, Granger?" He got up and stood in front of her, anger written all over his face; but what scared Hermione the most was his controlling and loud tone.

She felt scared enough not to answer.

"My father died, too! And guess what, If you would have agreed to marry me sooner, he wouldn't have fallen vicitim to this bloody curse! He would still be alive!"

She was about to answer, but the sight of Draco breaking a flower vase just to prove his anger, shut her up.

"I know what you're thinking: My father's life just wasn't worth it. That's it, isn't it?"

Neither of them expected an answer.

"Despite how badly he might have treated you, he was my father, and even though he never said it, I know he loved me. You can't say I don't know what it feels like to lose one's father."

As Draco kept on cursing and breaking things, Hermione took her wand out, but he was faster.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco disarmed a surprised Hermione, who flew across the living room and found herself knocked into the wall.

Her head was aching and fear was written all over her face. Her wand was lying too far away; now she was defenseless against an outraged wizard.

Draco's voice became calmer as he approached her slowly, not showing any emotion now, only indifference.

"Time and time again you condemn me because I have a different way of thinking. I know I am not innocent, but how innocent are you? Everything has to be about you, you are the only one in pain, you are the only one who suffers, you are the only one who feels. You can't say you aren't selfish and self-centered."

He knelt by her side; even though his expression was emotionless, Hermione could tell he was still upset.

"I know what it's like to lose a father, and what it's like to be involved in an arranged marriage. I can also say that I know what it's like to try to make things work between us, but you cannot say the same, can you?"

Draco took her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him; but she showed no interest in meeting his eyes.

"You may not know me as well as you think you do. As a matter of fact, you haven't even tried to get to know me."

He let go of her chin and caressed her cheek. His eyes had taken on a cold, hard glare. Draco was staring right through her.

"I know you don't love me, and I don't love you either, but believe it or not, I am glad to be married to you."

Hermione found it hard to believe, but she somehow knew he was telling the truth. It was kind of fishy, she couldn't quite bear Draco being fine with her, and she couldn't bring herself to be fine towards him either. It was just wrong.

"Perhaps you'll never feel the same way I do, but life goes on...you know. As far as I know, we can't change the past, nor the present. We can build our future together though."

It wasn't the first time he said that phrase she dreaded; the pit of her stomach dropped and queasiness washed over her every time she heard him talking about the future...their future.

Draco knew she was not going to retort, and Hermione knew he wasn't actually expecting her to do so; so silence conquered all the sounds for a few seconds, as Draco placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Did I hurt you?" Anger now gone, his voice was calm and soft, his eyes showed some concern.

"No." She lied as she got up, taking his hand off her shoulder and trying to avoid eye contact with him.

He was about to get up when she spoke: "I want to be alone tonight." Her back was to him.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on crashing into your room anyway."

Yet again, Hermione didn't answer. She just disapparated into her old room, which she charmed well enough so Draco wouldn't be able to get in.

"I still can't believe this is happening" She muttered to herself as she cried herself to sleep once again.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

A/N:

-Latin translation of the incantation:

"Ab imo pectore" means "With all my heart" or "From the bottom of my heart".

"Auferat hora duos eadem." Means "Let the same hour take us two."


	2. The Sun won't Set

**Draco's POV: **

Needless to say, I was surprised to find out Hermione Granger was actually none other than Hermione Zabini, daughter of a prestigious pureblooded family, and sister to my best friend, Blaise.

Surprise turned into anger when I realised what that meant: I was betrothed to my rival.

I had always known I was betrothed to Hermione Zabini, since I was a little boy. It was something my parents never kept from me, actually always reminded me of, especially if I was interested in some other girl.

As I grew older, even before going to Hogwarts, I realised no one knew the whereabouts of my fiancee and that despite how much we talked about her, no one had seen her since we were toddlers. So, it was most likely that she would never be found and we wouldn't have to get married. Perhaps she was dead...

I explained that to my parents; I was 9 years old then. My mother sighed and my father smiled darkly. They told me she was going to be found one way or another, and that I didn't have to worry about that.

And I didn't worry about it much, actually, it was just a matter I did not understand: how could I be betrothed to someone I hadn't seen for years and no one knew where she was? Besides, I had only seen her as a baby! I had known her since I was born, but I couldn't remember anything about her.

Even Blaise doubted she was alive, but his mother, Hyppolyta Zabini, reassured him she was. Blaise didn't care about his sister, either. All he knew was that his father had abandoned him and taken his twin sister with him.

Neither Blaise nor I could understand how our parents were so sure she was alive. But we were young and naive and we didn't trouble ourselves much about anything.

I had fun at Hogwarts until my last years. It was especially hard for me to finish my studies well with so many dark-related duties. I didn't want any of them, but my father didn't care about that, nor did the Dark Lord.

Blaise was lucky, he didn't have a deatheater for a father, his family wasn't involved with the Dark Lord. He didn't have to go through all I did...especially once the war was over.

Luckily, the Dark Lord had already been defeated; I would surely be dead by now if he hadn't. That's all I have to thank Potter for.

I was busy catching up with my studies by then. The war was over and almost half the school's students had a lot of catching up to do.

I didn't fail my exams, I was too good to fail...but I did have some accidents.

Everything began in December. At first it wasn't that bad; one day I would get a headache, another I would slip and crash into something hard, and on another, I would lose things. But as weeks passed by, my bad luck would only get worse.

By February, I had bruises all over my body, and they were not from the war, most of those had healed long ago. I fell sick four times between January and June, something very unlike me. Five times some evil magical creatures tried to kill me, three hexed me (of which only one survived), and six injured me.

I came to the conclusion I was cursed. I didn't know why, how, nor by whom; but it was obvious I couldn't be that unlucky with no magic involved.

When I told my parents, they were not surprised, not one bit.

"We know, sweetheart," my mother said as she caressed my cheek.

"Well, then what's going on?!" I asked as I pulled away to try to avoid her hands.

"It's a curse, boy," my father answered impatiently. "I thought you would have figured it by now."

"But...how?!"

"We did it."

I arched an eyebrow. I was not expecting that.

"Both you and your fiancee were cursed so you would have to get married, like it or not. If you didn't get married before the contract's seventeenth anniversary, misfortune would be all over yourselves...That anniversary was last December."

"...and the only way to stop the curse is getting married." I finished before my father could go on.

"You've got to understand this was made to assure your future, dear," my mother explained.

"What future?! My fiancee is nowhere to be found! I am doomed thanks to you!"

"Nonesense, darling, she will be found, you'll see," she assured me, seeing concern behind my anger.

"How can you be so sure? She might even be dead!!" It was certainly not for me nor for my parents to allow myself to shout in front of them, but I was close.

"That's one of the curse's benefits, if she were dead, the curse would have never activated upon you. It's been two months already; the curse will make her come back to our world soon."

"To our world?"

"We strongly believe she is in the muggle world, probably living as a muggle. Her father had some sick liking towards them."

"So she's not even a witch?!" Of all the possible outcomes of my future marriage, I had never imagined being married to a muggle, nor to a witch who knows nothing of magic. I didn't like the idea, not one bit.

"Of course she is...she just might not have been taught magic."

Needless to say, I was outraged. Anger was written all over my face, fire in my eyes, my lips twitching...but I couldn't bring myself to lose control in front of my parents.

I said nothing and apparated into the manor's gardens; there, I screamed loudly enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

It wasn't usual for me to scream, nor show too much emotion, but my blood was boiling.

I had the right to be upset, didn't I? My parents had cursed me so I would end up dying young if I didn't marry a girl who had been missing for 16 years; and if she was to be found, she probably did not even know anything about magic. It was just great.

I sat near the pool, close enough to see my reflection on the water.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I wondered out loud. Honestly, when I think back on everything that has happened to me all over my life, I realise nothing was really my choice; just for a start, I didn't choose to be born, first thing to blame my parents for. Secondly, I did not choose to get engaged, nor did I choose to get engaged to her. And I didn't choose to be a follower of the Dark Lord...I was made to do that.

The whole world seemed to be against me. I was late in my studies thanks to the war, I had a curse upon me thanks to my parents, I had to marry some ignorant chit if I didn't die first...

"Here I am, a victim of my parent's choices." I said through gritted teeth as I dove into the deep pool fully clothed.

I could find some peace under the surface. Perhaps because I was replacing my life's pressure with the water's pressure. I only got out when it became too painful for me to bear.

My mother was there when I got out. She was sitting comfortably with her summer hat and sunglasses.

"Watching over me, mother? As you can see, I didn't drown."

"Of course, Draco; that's what I've always done."

I didn't answer. I just dried myself with a towel a house elf had just given me.

"I know you are still mad, sweetie; but you do realise we could have never imagined your fiancee would be taken away. Not even her mother could forsee it."

"I don't care about that! What I don't understand is how you could curse me!"

"You know this is a very ancient tradition, dear...the curse just comes along with it. Your father and I had it, so did all of your grandparents and so on. It was only natural that you would have it, too."

"It's not fair," I said quietly. I knew traditions were not to be questioned, they were to be respected and accomplished.

"I know it's not, dear. I said the very same thing when I realised I had to marry your father. Believe me, it wasn't easy, especially for him--having to deal with me."

I guess she expected a reply from me, I couldn't be sure because I couldn't see her eyes through her sunglasses.

"What will I do, mother?" I asked sadly. Just the thought of marrying a witch who doesn't even know she is one made me sick. "What if you are right and she knows nothing of magic? She won't believe anything we tell her is real, she will refuse to marry me, and will probably end up in Saint Mungos!"

"Oh, that won't be a problem. We can be very persuasive, you know that." I could almost see my mother wink at me through her dark sunglases.

"I've always wondered what would be like to be married to an imperiused-girl." I said sarcastically. I never wanted to have a slave for a wife.

"No need for the imperius curse, there are more effective methods. Besides, the marriage ceremony cannot be accomplished if those kind of curses are involved, nor love potions, nor anything. I think the best thing we can do is coax her into marry you, and after you two are married, you'll be safe. That's all that matters now. Love will come later if it must."

"Mother, do remind me why I am involved in this."

"It's not that bad, darling. Perhaps she has learnt magic. She might even be one of your classmates!"

"Her family would have figured it out by now, don't you think?"

"No, of course not. Mr. Zabini was a very skilled wizard, he wouldn't have wanted anyone to find out his daughter's identity. It would be very likely of him to have magically changed her looks. What we know for sure is that she cannot be summoned, he might have placed a repelling charm on her."

"You mean she looks really ugly?" I questioned worried.

"Don't be silly, Draco. A repelling charm makes a person untrackable and unrecognizable to everyone he or she is related to save the one who has cast the charm. That's why Hyppolyta could have seen her daughter a thousand times and never realise it was her for all we know. Obviously she can't be summoned, either; her mother has tried to do so every year on the girl's birthday as well as on the day she was taken away."

It made sense. What I still couldn't understand was why Mr. Zabini would agree to place a blood curse upon his daughter to make sure she married me and later take her away and make sure no one could find out their whereabouts. It was a death sentence...not only for him, but also for his daughter. The curse implicated everyone who had signed the contract, for it was signed with blood...so not only her parents, but my parents would be affected, too.

"Misfortune doesn't seem to be affecting you, Mother."

"Well, I know how to defend myself. It's still soon to be unavoidable. You see, the curse starts first as a simple bad luck charm, but it grows stronger and stronger as time passes until everyone involved dies."

"Sounds lovely. I could have avoided many unpleasent things if you had told me sooner."

"We had to make sure the curse was working to teach you how to defend yourself, darling. You can't fight something you don't know."

"How come you can't protect me?"

"We can, dear, but it's better if you learn how to do it yourself. After all, it's the parents who the curse takes first."

Learning that kind of magic wasn't particulary hard nor fun for me, but it sure was interesting, and very useful. I had not been taught much about defense against blood curses on Hogwarts, probably because they were illegal.

Every day since I found out about the curse, I begged the stars for my future wife to be a witch, a real witch, a smart witch.

When I found out who she was, I regretted wishing so hard.

-------------------------------------------

**Present Time: **

Hermione needed to run as fast as she could; and so she ran, faster and faster each minute that passed by.

She was not being chased, she just needed to relax. A night of nightmares hadn't done her any good. The young witch kept waking up suddenly, covered in a cold sweat, for she had seen Draco in her dreams, breaking into her room, approaching her, kissing her against her will.

Only four hours had passed by since she had fallen sleep for the first time that night; six hours since she had laid down to bed.

So, it was 5:30 am in the morning when she decided to get dressed into a jogging suit and go out for a run.

Running could be painful, tedious, and exhausting, but it could also be an effective treatment for depression and anxiety.

Ever since Hermione had left the hospital, she took up running as a hobby, she said it made her feel removed from the problems and chaos of her life, at least while it lasted. Her mother was glad she had found that hobby, Hermione sometimes even smiled when she was done. Her personal races made her forget her problems for a while, or perhaps solve some of them; it made her feel alive.

At her mother's manor, she had her own running track in the gardens. The track was specially designed for her. It was charmed so it would get longer, wider, higher, or even lower into the ground; it could even have water or any obstacle if she wanted it so.

Her brother would join her now and then, it was quite fun to run with him. They would compete against each other, or just run and have fun. Those moments were very dear to her, she had grown very fond of Blaise thanks to those games they shared.

It was summer time, so the sun had already risen, but the horizon was still a mixture of blue, gray and pink. She had apparated into her mother's gardens just to run; she didn't mind the time of the day nor the temperature.

She had been running for almost half an hour when she noticed one figure wearing a beige robe sitting on a bench near the racetrack's edge; she didn't stop running though.

Hyppolyta, her mother, was sitting there, watching her little girl as she ran as though her life depended on it. Hyppolyta's properties where charmed so only someone of her family could apparate inside. She wasn't surprised when she found out her daughter had arrived; she had been expecting her.

It was another 20 minutes until Hermione decided to stop and let herself fall away from her racetrack, into the grass. Her cheeks glowed a nice shade of pink and she was panting and covered in sweat.

Her mother apparated next to her and threw her a gown.

"Put it on or you'll catch a cold, dear," she said sweetly.

Hermione didn't know how to react to her mother's appearance, she hadn't seen her since the wedding on the day before. She didn't seem to be angry about Hermione's abrupt dissappearance.

"Thank you." She said, panting still, though she didn't really care about catching a cold.

"Now, if you get up we can go inside and have some cool lemonade, all right?"

Hermione knew that meant talking, something she wasn't looking foward to. Hyppolyta noticed her hesitation, and smiled.

"Or perhaps you would rather go back to your husband...?"

That made her get up almost immediatly. Hyppolyta smiled once again and placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder to apparate together into the manor, right into the living room, where two glasses of lemonade had already been served, along with some vanilla cookies, Hermione's favorites.

When they sat down, Hyppolyta tried to clean Hermione's forehead with a small towel, a very mother-like behavior Hermione disliked.

"Don't, Mother, please." She complained as she took the towel and did it herself.

"All right, all right. Do it yourself if you must." Hyppolyta sighed, but became animated again.

"So, how was your night?"

"Great." Sarcasm all over her voice. "He broke a flower base, two portraits, and a chair. He used the expelliarmus charm on me when I tried to stop him."

"Well, Draco has had a lot of patience with you, you must have done something to upset him, dear. But he didn't hurt you, I am sure."

"It was painful to crash into a wall." Hermione said as she let her head fall back into the couch.

"The expelliarmus is the first charm a noble wizard can think of when he realises he is about to be attacked by someone he doesn't want to hurt."

"Noble?" Obviously exasperated, Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Had he wanted to hurt you, he would have, you know that."

"Are you taking his side?!" Her mother's words of comfort were not as pleasant as she expected them to be. It was curious, how her mother could profess such love for her and commit her to a life of suffering so easily.

"There are no sides in a marriage, sweetheart. As a couple, you must coexist as one."

Hermione had been lectured about marriages ever since she found out about her betrothal to Draco. She knew all of her mother's phrases by heart already and she didn't like most of them.

"I am not in the mood, Mother." She snapped impatiently.

"You might feel better if you just tell me what happened." Hermione felt Hyppolyta squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. She didn't like that much either, it still made her feel kind of uncomfortable to receive such affection from her biological mother.

"We just had a fight, that's all." It was quite common for her to argue with Draco, even though he tried to avoid it.

"Does he know you are here?" She asked in her normal conversation tone, as if they were speaking of the most common situation newlyweds go through.

"I hope not. I don't want to see him..." Ever again, she added internally as an afterthought.

"You do realise you live with him now, don't you?" Hyppolyta asked in her usual conversational tone as she subtly tried to feed her daughter a cookie.

"I've read the marriage contract, there's no clause implying we must live together."

"That's because it's too normal to live with one's spouse, dear." The cookie in her mouth shut her up only for a moment.

"And what if I don't want to? What if I leave forever and go live to Africa all by myself? I'll shield myself so he won't find me." She said with a hint of tiredness in her voice

"You could do that and live a lonely life, or you could stay and give him a chance to make you happy," she stated.

One thing Hermione had learnt about her biological mother was that she could not be argued with. It wasn't like there weren't any smart retorts Hermione could think of, it was just that none would be of use. Hyppolyta would always have the last word.

"Whatever," Hermione sighed as she sat up straight and took a gulp of her lemonade, no longer interested in going on with the conversation.

--------------------------------------

She sun was shining high in the sky when Blaise Zabini woke up that day. As he tried to get up, he realised his left arm was stuck. Looking down, he saw none other than his sister, hugging his arm in her sleep.

Not fully understanding why she was there, he tried to release his arm from hers, but as he tried to do so, she would tighten her hold.

"Too early for this," He uttered under his breath.

It wasn't that early actually, but Blaise wasn't a morning-person.

"Hermione..." He pleaded half asleep. "Come on! If you are not waking up, at least give me my arm back!"

No response came whatsoever, so he did what every brother would do to his sister in such situation. He pulled her hair. Hard.

As Hermione opened her eyes wide with a gasp, he took his chance to get out of bed.

"What's wrong with you, Blaise?" She scolded sleepily as she tried to sit up. Her eyes were rimmed by dark circles underneath; Hermione looked like she hadn't slept through the night.

"What's wrong with you? Sleeping in my bed? You have your own room!" Blaise's snapping at her not only made her wake up entirely, but also annoyed her. It was bad enough already that she had to deal with Draco Malfoy for the rest of her life.

"How insensitive can you be! I didn't want to sleep alone!" She cried out loud.

"You have a husband!" Blaise exclaimed.

"Exactly. He wouldn't dare look for me into your room. Specially if you are inside."

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione, grow up!"

"Grow up you say? You pulled my hair! How mature is that, huh?" She shot back, crossing her arms.

"You can't be that upset about that."

"Well, you can't be that upset about finding me here." She looked even more displeased.

"Just shut up, will you? It's too early to listen to your nonsense."

Right after finishing his sentence, Blaise felt a pillow hit him straight on the face. As the pillow fell to his feet, he arched an eyebrow at his sister.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"Let's see..." Hermione began but was soon cut off.

"The short version, please." He sighed and rubbed his temples with his hands. Blaise didn't have time to listen to his sister's biography, he knew it by heart already.

"Sure: I am married to Draco Malfoy. Is that good enough for you?" She said sarcastically and made yet another a look of disgust.

"Well, I wouldn't want to be married to him either. Do you care for some breakfast or would you rather lock yourself into my room?" Blaise had never cared much about his sister's long-planned relationship with Malfoy. He found it natural, just as he did his sister's outbursts regarding her commitment to him.

All Hermione could do was raise her brows and shook her head. "I need some sleep. If he comes, please kick him out of the manor," she said.

"Whatever." Blaise rolled his eyes as he pulled the door open to leave his room.

Still in his pajamas, Blaise shuffled trough the corridors and staircaises that lead to the dinning room. The portraits of his ancestors were fully awake already, many of them would scold him every single morning for being such a "lazy boy" as they called him. But he paid attention only to one particular voice, Draco's.

"Blaise!" Unlike his sister, Draco was fully awake and didn't seem to be disturbed at all.

He even was smartly dressed. Blaise's first thought was dissapparating, just for the sake of his sanity, but he knew he would have to bare the pains of friendship eventually anyways.

"She doesn't want to see you. I am tired. Leave her alone and let me have my bloody breakfast."

Draco knew Blaise wasn't an easy person to deal with if he hadn't had breakfast. His long-time friendship had taught him so.

"I figured that out; but your mother has insisted we must have breakfast together as a family. Now, who do you think should tell my wife?"

All Blaise could do was sigh as he strode back to his room. The day had not started nicely.

-----------------------------------------------


	3. My Family, my Battle

**Hermione's POV: **

According to my mother, not letting thought be employed upon gesture is the principle of good behavior. I always thought my mother was too polite. Anyone who didn't know her better would think she was a happy and polite woman, very well educated and serious. I don't think less of her, but I can tell there has to be something else; after all, no one can be "fine" all of the time. I spent some time reflecting on my new family and evaluated my impressions of them.

My mother never seems to have any problems at all, nothing disturbs her, impresses her, nothing. It is as if she could foresee everything about to happen, as if nothing was new to her.

Draco's mother, unlike mine, hides most of her thoughts and emotions under a serious facade, but does let herself show some happiness every now and then, as well as anger and impatience.

As for his manners around family, Draco acted the same way his mother did. He would look serious and focused, mainly serious, but polite for sure. When speaking to me, he calls me "dear", which he knows annoys me, especially when he does it so naturally. He always acts as if nothing's wrong, just like our mothers. He also makes a funny retort once or twice whenever he finds the chance, but always politely enough. But, again, that's when we are around our families, their friends, and strangers.

My brother, Blaise, isn't as serious as Draco, he just doesn't care all that much about manners. But he has to fake it, or else my mother scolds him in her oh so polite way. Blaise doesn't try to act serious or happy, he just shows whatever mood he is in. If he is happy, he shows himself as happy and polite as our mother; if he isn't happy, he acts serious and polite like Narcissa. But if he is angry, he wears a look of disgust and only speaks if it is absolutely necessary. He isn't that good at the principles of good behavior, as my mother calls them.

My brother and I are somewhat alike regarding manners, but I am worse, I can barely hide my emotions. My sarcasm is something I'll never be rid of.

I remember I wasn't too sure about living with my biological mother and Blaise, but the healers wouldn't discharge me if I didn't agree to go live with Mrs. Zabini. I was in a delicate state, after all.

They argued that Harry was too young to take care of me, even though he was of age already. Apparently, the boy-who-lived-twice wasn't good enough for me.

Mr. and Mrs. Wesley –they said– had enough children already, even though only George, Ron and Ginny lived at the Burrow with them, and besides, the youngest was 17 years old and going to Hogwarts.

Everything reeked of money; and I had no other choice but to agree to be put under my mother's care.

Needless to say, the Zabini Manor was huge. It was old, stately, and beautiful. It had a Mediterranean style, its huge gardens only ended because there was a forest surrounding the Manor.

The Zabinis' territories were concealed with repelling charms, nobody could get into through the forest or the sky unless they were family. The Manor was also unpottable on a map.

There was an old story in the neighboring villages that the woods were charmed so no one could explore them completely. No matter which path the explorers would take, they would always return to the beginning point.

There were no neighbors, Godric's Hollow was 31.07 miles away, and it was the closest village around.

"Just like a fairytale" was what I first thought when I saw the Manor from the outside. My mother had apparated us on to the stone path that led to the front door.

It certainly looked like one. It was raining outside, but the rain wouldn't reach the ground, as if the Manor and the gardens had an invisible shield.

"The shield activates when someone steps outside the house or apparates into the gardens. It doesn't work on our woods though," my mother explained me.

"I have read about this, but I have never actually seen one. It requires a lot of magic to be placed and sustained."

"That's right. I've had to enforce the shield every once a week for sixteen years. It consumes a lot of energy, but it is worthy. We can spend dry days outside, something very unlikely around here."

"And watch the rain fall on the invisible roof."

As soon as I said that, my mother muttered some words and the rain stopped. The clouds slowly moved away and let the sun show itself.

"An illusion charm," I said softly as I closed my eyes, for the sun shone so brightly.

"Did you like it better the other way?"

"Oh, it's all right. I don't really mind about the weather."

"Well, this should be a happy day, so there has to be a nice weather to match it." She smiled at me and led me to the Manor.

"It's only an illusion..." I thought ironically.

We entered a big hall with several wood doors, I thought that it was the living room, but according to my mother, it was some sort of waiting room, were visitors had to wait to be allowed in.

There was a fireplace, connected to the floo-network I assumed, a couple of sofas and armchairs, a coffee table, a couple of rugs/carpets and five lovely landscape portraits.

What disgusted me was to see a house-elf waiting for us. The moment we stepped in, he bowed. The weird thing was his clothes didn't look torn nor dirty. Just plain normal.

"Ratter welcomes you, Mrs. and Miss Zabini."

I couldn't do anything else but mutter a "thank you" after hearing him call me "Miss Zabini."

"Thank you, Ratter. Is Blaise waiting for us in the Great Hall?" I was quite impressed and relieved to find out my mother addressed the house elf quite respectfully. There wasn't any hatred, loathing or disgust in her attitude.

"I am afraid young Master Zabini has left. He told Ratter to tell you, Madam, he intends to spend the day with young Mister Malfoy."

A look of disgust was on my face again when I heard the Malfoy name, but it quickly vanished when I noticed a glimpse of anger in my mother's eyes. It only lasted a second though.

"Did he at least gave you an excuse for leaving after I strictly told him he had to stay?"

"Master Zabini said he had to study, Madam." Ratter uttered carefully, sensing my mother's anger.

She was quite good at pretending anyway. She wouldn't lose her self control.

"Doesn't he always?" She said sarcastically and sweetly at the same time.

Ratter understood he didn't need to answer that, and asked: "Everything you asked for is set. How can Ratter be of more assistance, Madam?"

"You may rest if everything has been taken care of, Ratter."

"Ratter thanks you, Madam, Miss." He bowed again and dissappeared with a plop.

My mother turned to look at me and sighed. "I am so sorry your brother isn't here to meet you, dear. He can be very stubborn sometimes, always busy with his studying. He was never too interested in studying when he was at Hogwarts, but now he's at University and it's a very different thing."

I didn't know what to say. It was obvious Blaise wasn't there because he didn't want to meet me. He probably despised me, he was a Slytherin after all...and a friend of Draco Malfoy nonetheless.

"Don't worry, I don't mind," I told her honestly. I wasn't looking forward to meeting him anyway. The thought even made me feel uncomfortable.

"I am sure he will be thrilled to meet you, perhaps just a little embarrassed...but he'll come around. If it's not today, it shall be tomorrow." She smiled reassuringly, probably believing I cared. "Now, what would you like to do? We could go to the living room and talk over some tea, or I could show you around the Manor. It's been ages since you've been here, after all. But it would take us hours to see the whole place, perhaps you'd rather have some rest?"

I didn't know what to say. Truth was I was curious to see it all, but I was uncomfortable at the same time...knowing I had been born here and raised the first two years of my life...

"Tea will be fine I think," I decided.

Then, we went through one of the huge double-doors of the waiting room to enter the biggest living room I had ever seen in my life. It was bigger than the Gryffindor common room for sure. It had at least four fireplaces, lots of armchairs, sofas, coffee tables, chandeliers, statues, carpets, decorations...it even had a pool-table and Greek columns.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, loud enough for my mother to hear apparently.

"I'm glad you like it, dear. I redecorate it at least six times per year. It's one of my hobbies."

And it surely was decorated with a flawless taste.

We sat around a coffee table where two cups of tea and some cake was already served.

"I know it won't be easy for you, sweetheart, but I hope you can call this place your home again some day soon."

I didn't know if she was expecting an answer; I thought the most polite thing to say would be an 'I hope so, too', but I wasn't too sure about that either.

Thankfully she spoke again before I could say something.

"Your room was never touched since you...'left'. It's still the same. I guessed you wouldn't feel comfortable in a crib, so I made the elves re-arrange another bedroom for you, it's right in front of Blaise's in case you need something".

She smiled lovingly and caressed my cheek. "I've waited for so long to have you back. Every day I entered your old room and cleaned it myself, hoping you would come back and use it."

Her words made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time: compassion. Even though she didn't allow herself to cry, I could almost feel the tears of joy she would have shed.

"It was so tough watching Blaise grow up and knowing you would be going through the same things and I couldn't be there for you and see you, help you, cheer you..."

I could imagine her heart breaking apart, I could almost feel the pain through her voice. When I saw a single tear run down her cheek I was speechless. All she did then was hug me so tight it was hard for me to breathe.

Never letting me go, she said something that made me cry, too: "I love you so much, my dear Hermione. I never lost hope."

I wasn't crying because I loved her but because I didn't. The thing is, I felt the least I could do was love her back, she was my real mother after all...I felt guilty because I couldn't share her love, her pain and her joy. So I cried...but I cried because it was all too much for me to handle.

"Every day for the past sixteen years I've wondered where you were and what you were doing, when I would see you again..."

Perhaps she thought I felt the same way when I hugged her too, but I needed someone to hug, I needed a shoulder to cry onto. To cry because my parents had died, to cry because my father broke my real mother's heart and took me from her, the most precious gift a woman can have...and because I didn't blame my father for leaving her. I couldn't.

My father still was my father after all...and he was dead. I didn't know why he had done that, why he had abandoned his wife and son...why he had taken me with him...why he had kept it all secret from me...but he was my father, one of the persons I'd loved the most, the man who had raised me, taught me, fed me, loved me.

And this woman...my real mother, she didn't do that, and I knew she had suffered all of those years she couldn't be with me. I couldn't imagine how painful it was for one to lose a child, for I hadn't had any of my own.

But I could easily realize it wasn't a pain that just leaves you. I imagined this woman, my real mother, had cried for me for weeks since I was gone. I deeply believed then that she had searched everywhere for me.

And also that it wasn't her style to cry in front of others.

When both our sobs stopped and our breathing was normal again, I felt her sigh and slowly let go. I could also sense she didn't want to.

Our eyes met again and she smiled weakly at me. I didn't smile, I just looked down to my hands, not knowing what to say or do.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that. I know it wasn't easy," was all I managed to say. She caressed my cheek and I looked at her again.

"It wasn't your fault. I brought it upon myself," she said softly.

There was a deep moment of silence then, when all I did was contemplate every feature of her face. I had only seen her that way once, that day when I first woke up on the hospital. I realized once again she looked familiar...and somehow it was comforting to see that.

"So, tell me about yourself. I must know just everything I've missed!"

I almost laughed at her new change of attitude, she seemed to have gone back to normal. Her voice was cheery again, her smile and her eyes were pure joy.

It didn't turn out to be as bad of a day as I had thought it would be. My mother was very caring and understanding with me. She was also very respectful, she didn't ask me things that would've made me feel uncomfortable. It was all about me, the things I liked, the things I disliked, my grades, the pets I had had...then I remembered Ron told me he had taken Crookshanks to his house, to take care of him while I was at the hospital.

And then I recalled the day I broke up with him, I felt so guilty about that. My mother could see sadness all over my face once again.

"I am sure your Crookshanks is fine, dear. You told me your friend was very caring after all."

"I...I just..." I wasn't sure about telling her about Ron and me, but when I looked at her face again I knew I could. There was something about her eyes that told me she cared and could be trusted.

"I just feel guilty because I broke up with him over a silly fight. I wasn't in my right mind."

Then I could see a deep concern in her eyes. I hadn't thought she would care all that much.

"Well...perhaps it just wasn't meant to be, dear."

That was not the answer I was expecting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

**Present Time:**

It had been easy for Blaise to get his sister out of his bedroom.

All he did was enter his room and, without a single word, he grabbed Hermione off the bed, who automatically woke up and screamed, and walked out of his room holding her on his arms.

"What are you doing?!" She screamed desperately. "Let me down!"

Since no one could apparate into or disapparate out of the Manor's bedrooms, Blaise could only apparate once he was in the hallway.

They apparated into the breakfast-dining room, as they called it. There they could see their mother, Hyppolyta, Mrs. Malfoy and Draco expecting them for breakfast.

Hermione stopped struggling when she saw them. Still in her brother's arms, she blushed when she realized she was in her pajamas and her hair was a mess.

"I'm glad you could finally join us," Hyppolyta said happily as Blaise placed Hermione on a chair beside him and in front of Draco.

Before shooting daggers at Draco with her eyes, she looked angrily at her brother and muttered, "How could you?", but all Blaise did was say, "Good morning, Mother, Mrs. Zabini," without even glaring at her.

She remembered her manners then and said, "Good morning" as well.

As the Malfoys nodded their greeting, five house elves apparated to place food on their plates.

"You don't seem to have had a nice night's sleep, Hermione, dear," Narcissa acknowledged, referring to her disheveled looks. She didn't approve of her daughter-in-law showing up so unkempt.

"I am sorry you have to see me like this, Mrs. Malfoy; but I am afraid my dear brother gave me no time to look better. Just a few minutes ago I was sleeping nicely."

"I think you look as lovely as usual," Draco smiled at Hermione while mocking her with his eyes.

Right then she told herself she had to maintain her self control and fight the urge to kick him under the table.

"Well, aren't you a charming boy, Draco."

Blaise laughed and almost choked on something he was eating. "Lovely," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"He sure is." Narcissa assured and caressed her son's shoulder. "We've brought all of your wedding presents here. You left so soon after the ceremony you couldn't even unwrap them."

Narcissa's tone of voice was plain normal, but anyone could realize that she was criticizing Hermione's leaving.

"We understand it was a tiring ceremony, you don't have to explain," Hyppolyta reassured Hermione.

'I wasn't going to..." Hermione thought as she shut her mouth with food. She was not going to give in to her tiredness, stress and angst. She had to keep herself together.

Hermione found herself looking forward to see the wedding presents, because that meant breakfast time would be over. It was just exhausting listening to Narcissa's and Hyppolyta's chatting. Draco and Blaise were quite used to it, they could ignore them and talk to each other. But ever since Hermione had been placed in the picture, she had to be a part of her mother's and Narcissa's conversations. It wasn't always that bad, sometimes they would talk about interesting things, but lately it had been all about Draco and her, about the wedding arrangements, good or bad omens...

Hermione wasn't listening much this morning. She was thinking of Harry and Ron, wondering how they would react when they found out about her wedding to Draco. They already knew she was engaged and cursed in order to get married; but as far as they knew, she was trying to find a way to avoid it, and both boys were helping her investigate even though they had auror training.

Perhaps they would feel betrayed...perhaps they would get mad...or they could be compassionate.

"Ms. Skeeter has certainly done a nice job with the article, wouldn't you say?" said Narcissa to Hyppolyta as she looked over a _Witch Weekly_ magazine.

"Excellent, for sure. It's all about telling her the right things."

Hermione came back to reality when she heard the Skeeter name. "What are you talking about?" Worry was etched all over her voice.

"About the news of our marriage, darling, of course," Draco said casually as he briefly stopped talking to Blaise.

"It's all over the media. See?" Blaise showed her the front page of_'Which Broomstick'_, that featured an enchanted picture of Draco and Hermione in their wedding robes, flying together on a broom. The article read "Broomsticks for Weddings".

"But...how?" It was known the magical media was that fast, but regarding pictures...there was no way they could have taken those pictures. In fact, she had never been on a broomstick flying with Draco, in wedding robes and looking happy.

_Witch Weekly_ had a picture of the newlyweds together on its front page. That one was real, it had been taken at the wedding, when they were walking together to the altar. And, of course, the picture had been bewitched so both looked happy. They could be seen holding hands and looking into each others eyes and smiling as if they were in love. 'A wedding to remember' was the article's title.

"Not only did you take pictures and bewitch them... but also sent them to the media!"

"Of course, the news would have been quite hard to believe without pictures involved." Her mother acknowledged as Narcissa offered her the magazine.

"**A Wedding to Remember**

**It was a beautiful summer night in June when two of the eldest families in the wizarding world celebrated the one wedding that would link them forever.**

**No one would have thought this to happen between the Zabinis and the Malfoy', not until Hermione Zabini, formerly known as Hermione Granger, ex-girlfriend of the boy-who-lived, was found after sixteen years of being kidnapped by her father.**

**The young and delicate girl told us in an exclusive interview she had always had a crush on her charming husband, Draco Malfoy. **_**'It was love at first sight.'**_

**Little did she know young Draco felt the same about her, and tried to ease her angst with Harry Potter. After a long-time relationship, she realized the boy who lived wasn't good enough for her and left him, to be with someone older and with an adorable accent: the successful Viktor Krum.**

'_**I would catch every single snitch for her ever since I realized she was after quidditch players.'**_** Draco told us, being quite an experienced player himself. **_**'Even though she couldn't know it, she gave me the strength to win most of the games.'**_** Poor Draco hoped she would notice him.**

'_**I always admired his quidditch performances. He always was one of the best seekers the school had**__**,'**_** Hermione admitted, not willing to leave Harry Potter behind. **_**'It just wasn't meant to be, but we still are friends.'**_

**Apparently, Ronald Weasley wasn't good enough of a quidditch player for her either. **_**'I always thought Draco would never look at me...When he finally did, I realized Ron and I weren't meant to be...I was still in love with Draco.'**_

**The couple had been going out for a year when Draco proposed. Hermione didn't hesitate to say yes through tears of joy**_**. 'The day he proposed and the wedding day were the happiest of my life.'**_

**The ceremony was very private, only family was invited. The young couple wanted to keep it simple regardless their family fortunes**_**. 'I didn't want to forget my humble background. Even though it was all a lie.'**_** Hermione said through her tears as her loving husband comforted her.**_**'Draco has been wonderful. He's always there for me, I don't know what I'd do without him.'**_

**Three broken hearts later, Hermione decided to settle down. **_**'I couldn't do that to Draco; I knew he was the one.'**_

**And she was so right. It was a hot summer night when he proposed. The couple were enjoying a nice short vacation ****in the country when Draco decided to pop the question. He wasn't surprised at her positive answer**_**. 'Even though we had never talked about it, it was quite clear we were meant to be together forever and ever.'**_

**And it certainly was a wedding to remember. It was set at one of the Zabini Manors the family has in Italy (See picture number 2). The old stone pillars had white flowers all over them (Hermione's favorites), brig****ht stars could be seen on the enchanted ceiling****Sparks appeared through the floors when the couple left the altar.**_** 'It was magical.'**_

**And the food was wonderful. It could be compared to Hogwarts banquets**

**Mini brioche lobster rolls, Lobster wraps with lemon mayonnaise, Lamb shanks in red wine, Grilled ****foil-wrapped sweet corn on the cob, Sun-dried tomato and rocket pesto pasta, Tuscan white bean and fennel stew with orange and rosemary, were just some of the main dishes. For dessert, there were dozens of pies and cakes. Thousands of muffins and ice-cream cups were made specially for the occasion. **_**'Only the best for our children' **_**said Hyppolyta Zabini, proud mother of Hermione.**

'_**It was the happiest day of my life, and I know there are happier days to come, as long as we are together',**_**declared a very in love Hermione Malfoy.**

**The new Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are already planning on enlarging the family.**_**'We want to have at least five kids.'**_**"**

"This is awful," uttered Hermione when she was done reading.

"See? We should have stayed after the ceremony. I didn't know there was such a big reception," Draco complained to her. "It sounds awesome."

"The food sure was awesome," recalled Blaise.

"Harry and Ron are going to kill me faster than I thought," said Hermione as she rubbed her temples.

"Lamb shanks in red wine...it was the best." The boys then began talking about food. 'Hopeless,' Hermione thought.

"Couldn't you have at least consulted me about this?" asked Hermione to her mother, looking desperate again.

"We wanted to, honey, but you left so suddenly, we just couldn't." Hyppolyta spoke as though that settled the matter.

"But—but..." She sighed. "It's all wrong."

"Do remember this is the truth to the outside world, dear."

"Somehow you two always manage to make it all worse and worse." Hermione sighed again. "It's a never ending cycle."

"Don't be so harsh, dear, it's all for the best."

Hermione didn't say anything else. She just got up and left the room. Draco joined her almost immediately after his mother scolded him to follow her.

She was walking rapidly through the corridors to go outside the house, to the gardens. "Don't," she muttered when Draco grabbed her arm attempting to stop her.

"Hermione-"

"Don't Hermione-me, Malfoy. You know I don't like it," she almost screamed when they were finally outside. They stared at each other for only a moment, sadness all over her face, concern over his.

"All right, Granger. Just listen," he said tiredly as he walked by her side. "You know your friends won't believe any of those articles. None of our classmates would believe we were secretly in love since first year."

"But everyone else will..."

"Well, that's just the point. We must keep up appearances to make this legitimate. You don't want your mother to end up in jail, now do you? Because that's exactly what's going to happen to our mothers if the Ministry finds out about our marriage contract."

She stopped walking and let herself lay down onto the grass, under the shadow of a lemon tree. "Sometimes I think she deserves it," she muttered to herself.

He sat down next to her, careful not to stare; he knew she would tell him off if she realized he was looking too much. "Perhaps she does. But you don't want her to be there. As I do not want my mother to be there either."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Perhaps Ron and I were meant to be."

Draco then looked into her eyes and made a gesture of disgust. "Never."

She then turned her face to look at him. "You have no right to be jealous." Her voice was full of anger.

"I don't? While you were hanging out with your boyfriends, I was waiting for you!" His piercing Grey eyes were soon as intimidating as hers.

Hermione sat on her knees then to face him from above. "And that's my fault now?!"

Draco replied, "Still, you had the chance to have someone; I was never allowed. So, I think I do have a right to be jealous. I am stuck with you forever and it doesn't seem I'll ever get the chance to feel half of what you've felt."

She didn't know what to reply; suddenly she felt kind of guilty...but what was there for her to do? The boy in front of her was a former death eater, muggle hater, and enemy to most things and people she loved. She had grown to see another side of him, a side which allowed her to talk to him without insults, to argue without harming him, and even to feel pity for him, but never love.

"I am sorry, Malfoy." She whispered staring now to the ground. She didn't dare meet his eyes, which she knew were a mixture of anger and hope.

"Don't be," he whispered back as he took her chin with his hand carefully to make her face him. Draco stood still, expecting to meet her eyes, but she wasn't planning on looking up. "It's not your fault."

When she finally dared look up at him, he stood so still as if he was trying to hold himself back from kissing her with unspoken passion. "Malfoy?" Then he was suddenly aware of his staring and changed the look on his face to a surprised one. "What?"

"Let go of me!" She snapped as she pulled his hand away. "Honestly, sometimes I don't understand you."

"Well, I don't understand you most of the time, dear." He replied casually and let himself lay back down onto the grass again. His eyes showed no emotion now, he was deep in thought.

Hermione sighed and refrained from scolding him again for calling her 'dear', it was useless after all. "Always trying to outmatch me, aren't you?" Her voice now calm, she stared at him, wondering what he was thinking, why he wasn't looking back at her.

Draco chuckled and closed his eyes. "We aren't as different as you think."

"I won't ask." Even though she was disgusted by the idea, she felt a sudden urge to lay down next to him, not because she liked him, she just needed comfort, she needed someone to hold her and listen to her; but she would never allow herself to be comforted by Draco Malfoy.

"I should go see my friends and explain things." Hermione murmured to herself, half knowing Draco would listen. But she couldn't care less.

He opened his eyes automatically and knelt to be in front of her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes. Hermione was too surprised at his sudden movements to snap and pull him away.

"No, you mustn't. Stay with me today." His eyes were pleading but his voice was kind of demanding.

"What's your problem?" She raised an eyebrow; it was an odd attitude coming from Draco.

His problem was he wanted her to stay with him, he couldn't bear the idea of her being with her friends on their first day as a married couple. It was bad enough that they didn't have a honeymoon, since she didn't want one. He felt every moment they were apart it would make it harder for him to make her like him; besides, he was enjoying that moment with her in the gardens.

But he couldn't tell her that. He couldn't show weakness, nor too much care. Every time he showed he liked her, she would only get more pissed.

"You are my wife, I want you to stay with me. That's all."

She took his hands off her and got up, dusting herself off. "We've discussed this, Malfoy, I am not an object nor a pet". She made a look of disgust and began walking away.

He was soon on his feet walking by her side. "I know, but I want to be with you. I'll go, too."

"No, you won't." She stopped suddenly to warn him.

"How come you get to boss me around and I can't boss you?" He snapped.

"I've never obtruded into your life!" She snapped back.

"But I wish you did!" He suddenly smirked and pulled her closer to him. "It would make things easier."

Hermione pushed him away and kept on walking. "You are so sick." She mumbled as she walked away, leaving Draco behind.

He could only stand still and watch her leave; he knew it was useless to keep insisting. She wasn't going to give in.

Only a minute passed by when he heard a plop next to him.

"No one said it would be easy," said Blaise as he patted his back.

"I know," whispered Draco in response.

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A/N: Thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers (keep them coming), and mainly to my betatester Molly. :)


	4. War and Peace

**Draco's POV **

One cold January afternoon my father called me to his study to tell me the greatest news he had heard of since he was told he wasn't going to Azkaban: "We've found her".

My first reaction was an overwhelming feeling of relief... until he told me to sit down to talk. I could tell by his face something was bothering him. It was really strange to see my father showing any concern over something, so it had to be bad.

Almost immediately I remembered my worst fear. "She's not a witch," I said reluctantly. It was not a question, I just assumed it straight away with a sigh as I let myself fall onto the armchair in front of my father's desk.

"As a matter of fact, she is. And a very experienced one indeed," he said with a deep sigh, but my face instantly lightened up.

"That's great news, father!" I exclaimed, relieved all over again.

I didn't understand why my father looked so stressed out though, but I thought it couldn't be that bad. I was so wrong.

"Well, it is great news. However, the matter will be more difficult than we thought." What could get into a Malfoy's way? I wondered curiously.

"What do you mean, father?"

My father stared at me, analyzing me carefully. "Do you remember that girl...Hermione Granger?"

Sudden shivers run down my spine as I heard that name; not because she scared me, but because I put 2 and 2 together. "What about her?" I stuttered; sweat began to show on my forehead despite the cold weather.

"She happens to be Hermione Zabini, Draco, as you might have figured out."

Mixed feelings washed through my veins. "No...It's not possible." I looked desperately into his eyes, hoping in vain there would be some trace of joking or lying; but my father's face was deadly serious. "There's no chance you're joking, is there?" Disappointment hung over my voice.

"You know I don't joke, boy. Now, listen carefully: She had an accident this morning. Her father and his woman died right away, she was the only survivor. The moment her father died, the enchantments protecting her worn off, and thus, Mrs. Zabini found her immediately. She apparated her into a Hospital where she is currently being stabilized. Your fiancee is in a delicate state, the curse affected her greatly, its effects increased dramatically when her father died, but we believe she'll make it..."

I was barely listening to my father's words, for I was mostly thinking about how my life couldn't get any worse. "Then...she's not a mudblood?" I interrupted him, clearly pissing him off.

"Of course not, boy! The Zabinis are of the purest bloodlines in Europe!"

I was getting so depressed I couldn't even fear my father's anger. "But the basilisk petrified her back on our 2nd year..."

My father then breathed deeply, trying to calm down before answering me. "That stupid creature also petrified a ghost and a cat, Draco." I wished she hadn't been a witch after all, but said nothing.

"Now, son, this is the kind of girl you'll find yourself with when she recovers: She will clearly be devastated over her father's death. It's possible she might have been told her mother died or that her mother was a girlfriend of his father's, so it's quite probable she will have a hard time adjusting to her real mother. This is good for us."

"How come?" I could guess what he had in mind, but was too confused to think straight.

"You'll get a chance to comfort her and change her mind about you!"

"Are you sure there is no way out of this?"

"No, there is not." he said warningly and kept on talking. "So you will have to remake your friendship with Blaise Zabini; that way you'll have plenty of chances to see her and be nice to her. Show her your good side and it won't be so harsh for her when she finds out about your marriage contract. Are we clear?"

My relationship with Blaise was kind of complicated. For a start, we had been very good childhood friends; our mothers were childhood friends, too. Ever since we learned to share our toys, we were friends. Mother says I used to play with Hermione, too.

Of course, we have no recollections of such events, but we have our parents' testimonies and pictures that prove it. I guess my clearer memories of those times start when I was four years old. We started a real friendship and we were best friends until our second year at Hogwarts, when the attacks started.

The thing was, we had different ideas regarding the Dark Lord. The Zabinis believed in blood purity, but they didn't believe in the Dark Lord and his tactics. That didn't bother my family much; actually, it wasn't them who told me to finish my friendship with Blaise, but it was Blaise himself.

His mother, Mrs. Zabini, wisely told him to stay away from every student whose family was somehow related to the dark side; and my family was clearly in that club. He hesitated a lot, but when the rumors of the Chamber of Secrets opening again spread through Slytherin, every parent of the Slytherins found out, and thus, rumors of the Dark Lord were spread too. There already were rumors of him hiding, being half alive and some other weird theories, but the opening of the Chamber made them stronger. Anyway, Mrs. Zabini told Blaise to finish our friendship straight away.

Blaise, being the honorable friend he was, decided to explain the situation to me upfront. "I'm sorry, Draco, but mother warned me not to be your friend anymore. Your family must leave the dark side again in order for us to be friends. She doesn't want us to stain our name being friends with a family with such a...'dark' reputation, you know."

"What do you mean? Your mother doesn't support the Dark Lord?" I didn't understand how a pureblood didn't support him; it was the most normal thing for me.

"No, we don't believe that halfbloods want to take over the wizarding world." He said simply and honestly...and boy, didn't I get upset; even though I didn't want to admit it, I was also hurt. Blaise was my very best friend and he was betraying me because his family couldn't afford to stain their name for what I thought was a good cause. "Well, my family doesn't believe in blood traitors anyway," I sneered...and that was the last time I spoke to him for years.

Regarding our mothers, basically the same had happened to them I guessed. When I told my mother what Blaise had told me, she didn't seem to be upset or impressed; apparently she had been expecting it. All she did was caress my cheek and say: "There are better times to come, Draco." She didn't want to give me any further explanation.

My father, on the other side, told me that when the Dark Lord returned, he would reward his faithful followers. Then I assumed Blaise would respect me and regret betraying me when the Dark Lord rewarded my family...and he would reward me as well because I would become a deatheater. I would be powerful and feared like my father.

Such a stupid dream, I learned.

After Blaise cut ties with me, I didn't trust anyone else to be my friend again. I was fine with my own followers then, Crabbe and Goyle. They were idiots, but if I needed someone bright to talk to, I had Theodore Nott. We kind of were like friends, but not completely. What we had was a mutual and strong respect towards each other; we were on the same level, after all. He understood what I was going through and vice versa, for my father and his parents were deatheaters. We had the same beliefs, and thus, we knew we didn't have to trust each other too much. Our families were equally dangerous.

But as we grew up, I realized Theodore was far crueler than I. He wasn't scared of killing, cursing, torturing...he didn't mind it at all while I couldn't help but vomit only by seeing someone being crucioed. It was clearly established I was the weak one and I hated myself for that. I couldn't be up to my father's standards.

Going back to Blaise, I wondered how was I supposed to talk to him again, how was it going to be like after 6 years? "I think he'll prefer to keep his reputation intact, Father."

My father raised an eyebrow. "I've invested a great amount of money to clean our reputation, Draco. I don't think that will be a problem."

"But we were..." I started but was immediately interrupted.

"...blackmailed, threatened and tortured into following and supporting the dark side. That's what the jury said, always remember that, son; the law is the law."

"That will be of great help to flirt with Granger." As I said that with sarcasm over my voice, I realized the horrible fate that was expecting me once again.

"Zabini, Draco, Hermione Zabini."

"Her last name doesn't change who she is."

"Well, try thinking otherwise. My father didn't get dragon pox accidentally after all." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a warning. It was very weird hearing my father mentioning his own.

"He died because of the curse, didn't he? But why?" How could that be? My parents had always been very respectful of traditions and death threats.

"Let's say your mother didn't like the idea of us getting married at first. She didn't change her mind soon enough."

I could hardly believe someone as strict as my mother would try to fight such an antique tradition; it was a side of her I would have never imagined. As I thought about her, I realized how effective the curse was in order to make sure any opposition to the marriage contract was eliminated: I wasn't going to let my mother die.

The next day I found myself in the Zabinis' waiting room, where Blaise met me. He wasn't surprised to see me.

"What brings you here, to a blood traitor's humble house?" There was a hint of humor on his voice.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, and perhaps talk. You know, blood traitor to blood traitor."

"You are old enough to tell better lies," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I should work on that. What do you want me to do? Apologize for what you did?"

"You still hate me for that, huh?"

I sneered but said nothing. He looked as full of himself as I usually did.

"I'd apologize, but that's not what you came here for anyway."

I thought an apology wouldn't be bad, but even if he did, it would make no difference. We were not going to be friends again just like that.

"What do you think I'm here for?"

"Well, if it's not moral support, it must be some wicked plan to gain my sister's trust which involves me somehow, probably as a link."

"Aren't you bright? Just like her," I mocked him.

It was his time to sneer. "So, what is it you want to do?"

"Let's hang out again, let's pretend to be friends. That way it will be easier for me to get closer to her and get her to trust me."

"That is she bonds with me first." He raised an eyebrow. "But even if she did, I don't think it will be that easy for anyone to get her to trust you. A love potion would be easier."

"Do you think I haven't thought about that? It wouldn't work. She cannot be under the effects of any kind of magic in the ceremony."

"I was thinking really little doses. Not a very strong potion, of course. She would fall for you slowly, after some weeks you'd take it off, some days before the wedding, she would feel very confused, but she probably wouldn't refuse getting married."

"You really don't want to meet her, do you?"

"It's not something I'm looking forward to."

"You never did. You're still jealous, Zabini." I chuckled at this. It was funny, after so long, he was still the same. Blaise had always been jealous about his sister; after all, it was her who Mrs. Zabini cried over for so long, who she tried to get back every year on his birthdays. It had always been her who was the source of his mother's depressions, and it was her whom Mr. Zabini had taken with him. And now that she was back, she was going to be the only center of attention.

"I'm not interested. That's all." He tried to act indifferently.

"It's ok, Blaise. I'm not looking forward to see her either. Less marry her." I shrugged.

"...and have children with her." He smirked, knowing the thought would disturb me.

And it sure did. I looked horrified, I hadn't thought about that. "Don't tell me you didn't think about that! What do you think these marriage contracts were established for in the first place? To ensure pure bloodlines of course!"

Reality hit me like a sack of bricks and I let myself fall onto a couch. I was going to have children with Granger. "Dammit." I said out loud.

"And I bet you'll have five daughters before a boy is born." He laughed and I stared at him with hatred in my eyes. "Don't say that! You'll jinx me you idiot!"

He smirked once again. "Don't worry, that's only if she lets you touch her."

"It could be the end of the Malfoy name." I realized painfully. "I can't let that happen." That hurt even more.

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**Present:**

A strong argument could be heard on the insides of Grimmauld Place, where one Harry Potter lived.

"How could you, Hermione? How?!" Exclaimed a very upset Ron Weasley as he walked in circles. His face was red with anger.

"I couldn't fight it any longer, Ron. And there was no way out...you know that." Hermione had been expecting such an outrage from him, but it was hard to bare it anyway; besides, she had arrived an hour ago.

"But we could have found a way! We only needed more time!"

"My father spent sixteen years trying to find a way, Ronald! And he is dead!" She almost cried in desperation.

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry warned him and squeezed Hermione's hand. "We understand." He assured her soothingly. Hermione knew Ron understood the situation, too... he just didn't want to accept it.

Ron shut up and sat onto a couch. Anyone could tell he was still rambling and cursing in his mind, but at least it was in silence.

"So, why didn't you invite us to the wedding?" Harry tried to change the tone of the conversation. She sighed dramatically and stared to the ceiling.

"It was all so fast, Harry. After Lucius Malfoy died, I began battling with the decision, I told you. I was sure then that there was no way out, but it was so hard to admit and to accept my...fate."

"It wasn't your fate!" Ron interrupted.

"How can you tell, Ron? Can you see the future now? Haven't you thought that perhaps it actually was my fate?" She snapped. Ronald Weasley was 19 years old and still was as immature as the first time she met him.

"Come on, Ron. Let her speak."

Ron mumbled something; Hermione waited a good 30 seconds for him to shut up again.

"A week after his funeral, I was having the afternoon tea with my mother and Narcissa Malfoy in our Manor. They commented, as they usually did, that it was a lovely time of the year to get married. Right then I didn't want to fight it anymore...so, instead of dismissing their subtle attempts; I said yes...I said I would get married. That was yesterday."

Hermione sighed deeply once again, this time to regain her breath. Ron looked even more furious than before, but Harry's warning looks kept him quiet.

"The moment I finished my sentence, both women set their tea cups on the table, got up and grabbed me by my hands. My mother took me to my room to dress me up, as Narcissa went to the fireplace to start calling some must-be guests. There was very little time, so they only invited family. "

"You could've invited us to the banquet." Ron mumbled. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't go to the banquet either." It was Hermione's turn to get furious. It was amazing how Ron could think about food in a situation like this.

"Why not?" Harry asked, trying to calm Hermione down again.

"I left when the ceremony was finished. I couldn't take it."

"How did Malfoy take it?"

"Malfoy? He didn't mind. I guess everyone was expecting me to leave in anger. He apparated in front of me a moment after I left. Everything happened so fast..."

"You didn't sleep through the night, did you?" Those damn dark circles still lingered underneath Hermione's eyes, her hair was lamely tied into a bun which seemed to be about to fall apart, her robes were the first thing she found in her closet and put them on without a second thought. Had she not found her friends in Harry's place, she would have fallen sleep on the floor.

"I bet Malfoy kept her busy," Ron sneered.

Before Harry could say something, Hermione got up and slapped Ron straight in the face. Needless to say, Ron was dumbfounded.

Hermione said nothing; she only stared at him with a dreadful look. Ron soon had a red mark on his cheek. Almost a minute passed by before Hermione spoke: "I guess Malfoy was right."

A single tear run down her cheek, she closed her eyes and dissaparated, leaving both boys behind.

"You couldn't have been more stupid, could you?" Harry exclaimed in anger.

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Hermione apparated into her parents' living room, which was actually hers since they had died. And Draco knew it was his as well since they were married.

That's why he was comfortably sitting there reading "The Complete Wizard's Guide to a Healthy Relationship", a book which he suddenly closed and subtly hid when he heard a very devastated Hermione arrive.

"You are here." She acknowledged, not expecting him to be there. Hermione decided she would not inquire why because it would certainly lead to a fight in which he would claim this was his house too and she would deny it somehow.

It was easier to accept reality, at least for what was left of the day. She had no strength left at all.

"What happened?" Draco asked and motioned for her to sit next to him.

She didn't hesitate at all as she dropped down beside him. Something had to be very wrong, Draco thought.

Hermione sighed dramatically and let her head fall onto the couch. "Ron is an idiot," she whispered sadly. Draco suppressed a smile.

"I am so tired."

Draco realized this was one of those precious situations he had to take advantage of, but do so very carefully for her not to notice. He slowly put an arm around her and recalling Blaise's tactful advice on how to comfort Hermione, he began: "Don't worry about him. He'll get over it and you'll be okay." He almost failed at suppressing his content tone.

She said nothing ...that could mean two things: (a) Hermione was actually listening to him, or (b) she had fallen asleep.

After making sure she was not sleeping with her eyes open, he tried very hard to put on a more serious facade. "Just give him time to get used to it."

She nodded and, Draco noticed, almost put her head on his shoulder. He was about to say "You can trust me", but it would have been too obvious. He had to think of something better, something subtle, and something she would like.

"Everything will be fine, you'll see." Okay, the phrase didn't exactly involve him, but at least she would remember he comforted her.

When she finally spoke, she just burst out: "Things are hard enough without him behaving like an insufferable prat, you know? Instead of putting away his anger and comforting me in a difficult situation, he acts as if he was the victim of the whole thing!"

"I know," he nodded and smiled to himself; she would remember his agreeing with her.

"On the other hand, I guess he has the right to be upset...we could have had a second chance..." She sighed and lowered her eyes to the floor. "Perhaps it's better this way..."

Draco wondered what a friend who wanted to be more than a friend would say in this situation to his advantage without the object of his desire noticing. If he agreed with her, she would later realize he was using his manipulation skills; if he told her otherwise, there was a chance she would recognize he had a good side; of course, there was also a chance that she would take that as a manipulation too, but it was his best shot.

"No, it's not." She looked up at him in surprise. "He is your friend; you shouldn't give up on him just because he is upset. He'll come around. It's not the first time you two have had a fight, now is it?"

"No...There have been plenty. But...this one is different." She looked down to the floor again.

It seemed he had chosen correctly.

"Well, it's not like you can't be friends anymore, you just can't be in love any longer." He knew it wasn't the smartest move, but he had to make sure he hadn't given her any hope of getting back together with the weasel.

"I know," she sighed in defeat and closed her eyes.

A minute of silence later, he was sure she had fallen asleep.

This was another of those crucial moments with her where he had to think which was the most convenient move. He knew he had to be the gentleman type, but what would be better? Let her sleep on the couch or take her to her room, risking waking her up in the process?

Torn between his desires for her and the convenience of making things right, he decided he would take her to her room. The levitating charm could wake her up and apparating would definitely wake her up; so the only choice he had was the muggle way.

He took her in his arms slowly, trying not to wake her up. Her weight wasn't a problem for him, he noticed; and she didn't even stir while he carried her to the room, she even seemed to be comfortable.

What a shame she wasn't aware of this moment, Draco thought.

As he carefully laid her down onto the bed, he acknowledged that even though she was kind of unkempt, she looked sweet in her sleep.

He had to fight the urge to cuddle with her or perhaps take her robes off to make her more comfortable and instead he stepped away.

As he contemplated her sleeping figure, he hoped she would remember what he had just done for her. And also that she wouldn't explode when she found out he had replaced the furniture of her parents' former bedroom because he didn't want to sleep in the bed that belonged to dead people and the closet was too small for all of his clothes and hers.

If he was lucky, she would wake up in a good mood and wouldn't mind that all of her clothes had been moved to the other room, nor his mother's decision to redecorate that room for them. Hopefully she wouldn't complain about all those boxes with his other belongings spread around the house.

Perhaps she would see the bright side and realize he had not told any house-elves to arrange everything for him, he had decided to do it himself in the normal-magical way.

He had even managed to bring Crookshanks with him, he had to stupefy the annoying animal to stop it from hurting him, but Hermione didn't need to know that.

Draco seriously considered preparing some elixir to induce euphoria for her. The problem was getting her to drink it, it couldn't be added to food or drink after all. What could be added to food or drink was a love potion...he had been considering Blaise's old idea of feeding her a love potion in small doses, but perhaps it wouldn't be necessary. She had just allowed him to comfort her after all, and he had been good!

Perhaps his "Guide to a Healthy Relationship" was working.

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A/N: The more reviews I get, the faster I'll feel like writing next chapter. How do you like it this far? Constructive criticism always welcome. :)


	5. The Masks we wear

**Hermione's POV: **

When I first went to the Zabini Manor, my biggest fear was meeting Blaise. I expected him to be completely awful to me. I remembered him being a poser who looked down on everybody else and disliked muggles and blood traitors alike. The image I had of him was so different from the one I had of my biological mother at the moment; I could hardly believe how such a loving and adorable woman could have raised him... and I couldn't cope with the fact that he was my brother either.

What I didn't expect was to meet my grandparents. I had never known any. My parents told me once that theirs had died long ago before I was born, I guess my mum was the only one telling the truth, unlike my dad.

The people in front of me, who introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Zabini, were the living proof. Both had an Italian accent and looked quite elegant.

It was barely a couple of hours after I went to the Manor that they arrived.

Mrs. Carmella Zabini reminded me of myself, her hair was of a darker shade of brown than mine but it was straight; we had the very same eye colour, she was a little taller than me, and she barely had wrinkles. She moved gracefully and dressed with very expensive and aristocratic-looking robes like my mother. She didn't look very old, but she had to be at least 60 years old to be my father's mother.

Mr. Tiberius Zabini was the living image of my father, but worn and lined with age, and also with a large white beard. I felt tears pressing hard against the corners of my eyes when I first saw him. My first thought was to run up to him and hug him and never let go... but I knew he wasn't my father. I blinked hard trying to suppress the feeling as I tried to hide my tears.

I failed miserably when my mother hugged me and caressed my back. "You may cry for as long as you need to, my darling girl. Crying is good for the heart and the mind..."

As I sobbed onto her shoulder, I felt a hand on my own. As I let go, I turned my back on my mother, who placed a comforting arm around my shoulder, and I looked up to my grandmother.

She smiled reassuringly at me and said in a sweet voice "He's alive in your blood, my dear." I nodded and looked up to Mr. Zabini, who was standing next to me.

"Father looked just like you." My voice was almost a whisper. I looked down, ashamed of giving such a lame first impression to my grandparents.

"He did, didn't he?" I was surprised to hear his content tone. "Look up, Hermione, Zabinis hold their heads high." I looked up slowly and kind of confused. Even though I didn't like being addressed as a Zabini, when I stared at his comforting dark brown eyes, I knew I would get very well along with him.

I spent the rest of the day with them and my mother. It was surprising how much alike Grandmother Carmella and I were. We shared my passion for books, which was very much the same with my dad; she even was against house-elves' mistreatment and slavery. Grandfather Tiberius cracked up when we came upon the subject.

"Yes, yes. The day after our wedding she threatened to release them all if they didn't get paid for their jobs."

"And they are treated properly, of course, but that's common courtesy in Italy." Grandmother added in a very serious demeanor.

I recalled how respectfully my mother treated Ratter the house-elf. I turned to face her. "Are you from Italy, too?" As I said that, I realized I felt a sudden urge to know more about my family, to know where I actually came from.

"Oh, no. I was born here, but my family is of Greek and French descent, darling. Did you ever wonder why you were called Hermione?"

"Dad only said he thought it was pretty." It still hurt to talk about him, to remember him, but somehow it was easier in that situation, surrounded by people who I barely knew but seemed to love me anyway.

"It certainly is. Every woman in my family, from my mother's side, has had a Greek name beginning with an H. It's a very old tradition passed from mother to daughter." She winked at me with her ever smiling demeanor.

She had gotten more serious since my grandparents had arrived though. I was too busy getting to know them to notice it at first, but after a while I realized she was too careful with every move and gesture she made, she barely spoke even if she was asked to, and she barely made more eye contact than needed with them.

And then I noticed my grandparents only had eyes for me. They didn't pay much attention to her, they were polite and very talkative, they never looked down on her, but there was something. They weren't even nearly as loving and comforting with her as they were with me. It seemed they and my mother only spoke to each other because I was there.

I was enjoying my grandparents' visit so much I didn't think of my pain, of my problems... they made me feel as part of the family, even though I still couldn't quite cope with the fact that I was a Zabini.

I found out my father's side of the family owned banks mainly in Italy. They told me my father used to be in charge of the enterprise here, but since he had left, my grandfather had to make it a partnership to leave someone capable in charge, at least until Blaise was old enough to take it. "It will be yours one day, too."

I had never imagined myself working in a business partnership, but I wasn't going to worry about that then. Actually, I was so deep in conversation with them, I didn't realize time passing by. Only when Mother suddenly asked them if they would stay for dinner I noticed how late it was: we had been talking for at least 5 hours!

"Dinner? Is it that late already? Oh, dear, we didn't notice." Grandmother said sweetly. "We would love to stay, but I am afraid it will not be possible tonight, you know how the floo network gets, it's just not good for people of our age."

"Yes, yes. We'd better leave, my dear. It's a long way to Italy." Grandfather Tiberius nodded as he got up.

"It's been a lovely afternoon, I wish you could stay longer." It was me who spoke, even I was surprised of my demeanor, I had become very attached to them in such a short amount of time.

"You are such a sweet, _cara ragazza" _My grandmother kissed both my cheeks Italian style and hugged me tenderly.

I doubted she would have let me go sooner if the huge main doors of the living room hadn't opened magically to reveal a boy as tall as Ron, with curly dark blond hair, brown eyes and pale skin; he was dressed in dark blue and black robes.

I hadn't seen Blaise Zabini since sixth year. I noticed he was much taller, his features were stern. He looked deadly serious, high and mighty; and it was me whom he first looked at.

"Blaise, my boy!" Tiberius greeted him and told him something in Italian as he hugged him. His features softened considerably when he looked at our grandfather, he only half smiled but didn't return the hug

Grandmother Carmella seemed to forget about me for a moment when he appeared "Won't you come greet your grandmother now?" She asked playfully.

He hesitated at first, noticing I was next to her. But after a glare from our mother he moved to be hugged and kissed by grandma.

Only a moment after, Blaise was in front of me. "We meet again." He acknowledged with a indifferent but polite voice; I was startled at first, I didn't think he would speak to me.

I was about to say something when he grabbed my hand and kissed it politely. I almost couldn't fight the urge to take it away immediately

He looked up at me again as he let go of my hand. As collected as he was before, Blaise never broke eye contact while speaking to me. "It's very fortunate to have you back. I hope you'll feel at home."

Had he been friendly or at least nicer, I wouldn't have felt so uneasy when he spoke to me. "Thank you." I stuttered.

Blaise nodded as he let go of my hand and looked away to meet our mother's approving gaze.

Soon enough, mother walked our grandparents to the floo network, leaving me alone with Blaise.

He stared at me from his sitting position on a couch in front of me. I felt so uneasy; his eyes were piercing; he stared so intensely, perhaps trying to find any resemblance between us.

Despite his being polite, the silence was quite intense and, at least for me, uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say or do; I was sure Blaise disliked me completely. Before, it had been because I was a muggleborn (even though we hardly ever had any contact at all, I knew he was a muggle hater); now that we all knew I was a pureblood, he had to hate me because that made me a blood traitor.

And he was a Slytherin, and I, his twin pureblooded and blood traitor sister, was a Gryffindor...and friends with Harry Potter.

"How are you doing?" Blaise surprised me for the second time in less than half an hour when he asked me that.

I looked up startled; I didn't think he would treat me nicely when we were alone, much less ask me that...in that situation.

Again, I didn't know what to say, or how to react. I looked into his eyes trying to understand why he was asking me that, and perhaps realize what he expected me to answer; because I really didn't know what to reply.

What was I supposed to say? Did he want to know what I was feeling at the moment? Did he really care? Or was he just asking to be polite and perhaps make a small talk? Or was it that he just felt uneasy with the silence like me?

"I...I don't know. I'm just trying to deal with all this...It still is hard to digest, you know."

Never losing his cool demeanor nor his stern gesture, he didn't take long to answer. "One step at the time."

His words made me feel less uncomfortable and I could relax a little bit. That had sounded nice of him, and then, for the first time, I could see a glimpse of a nice person in his eyes.

"I'm on that." I smiled for a moment and decided not to allow silence to reign again. "It's funny I never looked at you twice, we might not look alike, be we sure have some resemblance."

As collected and haughty as he was before, he spoke: "Father was a very skilled wizard; that repelling charm he put on you was very advanced magic. Not even your name raised suspicions, but that was tricky too; we never thought he would allow you to go to Hogwarts, risking your being sorted into Slytherin and yet keep your name."

"He sure was...it still amazes me; not that he was so bright, but that he could do all that...I still wonder why. It's hard to believe...but...I used to think I knew him, and now it turns out I didn't know him at all."

"I guess he just didn't know what to do and decided to start a new life without mother...nor me, apparently."

"That's the oddest part of it all...perhaps he felt guilty and didn't want to leave her all alone?" I shrugged feeling uneasy, I really didn't know what to think

"That's one of my many theories."

I realized then what Blaise must have been through; he lived knowing his father had abandoned him, knowing he had left with his sister and without him. I felt pity for him then, for he hadn't had the chance to have both a mother and a father as he grew up; unlike me...even if my whole life had been some sort of a lie.

"He was a very good person, he was caring and loving...I am sure he never wanted to leave you, Blaise."

I felt even worse for him when I saw him shrug indifferently; I quickly assumed his haughty demeanor was a way of protecting himself; some way of saying he wasn't affected by everything that happened in his life...and probably from all the rumors that probably lingered in Slytherin about his family, too.

"I mean it."

He stared at me again, deep in thought, as if trying to decipher me.

"If you say so."

Guessing he didn't want to talk about it, I decided to change the subject; besides, I didn't want to talk or think about my father either.

Despite Blaise's haughty and almighty attitude, I felt he couldn't be that bad; he was there talking nicely to me despite all he had against me, after all. I wanted to get to know him better, he was my brother and that had to mean something.

If he was giving me a chance, I would give him a chance, too.

But was I supposed to say? I had no idea of what he'd like to talk about... He surely liked Quidditch, but I knew very little of it, and it would only remind him of Gryffindor beating Slytherin plenty of times.

I could only resort to what I was good at: studying. "What are you studying?"

"Business Management. Grandfather will put me in charge of a bank here when I'm done."

"I didn't know of any wizarding bank in London besides Gringotts."

"Gringotts is the biggest in Wizarding London, but it has no branches. Our banks may not be as big as Gringotts, but we have branches all over Europe. And we work the money; Gringotts' main and only activity is keeping it safe in vaults, they don't invest, they don't loan."

Just like that, I knew Blaise was into business, that was what he liked. He explained to me everything about the family banks, his ambitions as a heir and future owner, and about making money. It wasn't a lovely subject for me, but he was passionate as he talked about it. I liked seeing him so care free, talking about what he liked.

I saw him smile for the first time that night; and thankfully it wasn't the last.

--------------------------------------------------------------

**Present Time: **

Draco Malfoy was inside his self-proclaimed basement (which he called dungeon), standing over a little cauldron, carefully selecting the exact ingredients for his potion.

After adding the viper scales and the dixy hair, he had only one ingredient left: 45 drops of Bellevalia Longistyla essence

He was a very skilled potion maker; it was rare of him to commit a mistake while brewing a potion. But when he was counting 44 drops, an unknown ringing sound startled him, causing him to add an extra drop without noticing it.

Figuring out the potion needed to simmer for 13 minutes, he followed the noise downstairs. He was surprised to find out it came from the front door.

He opened it, wand in hand, and was surprised once again, this time by a muggle-looking short old lady. His surprised features were soon replaced by stern ones. How come there weren't any muggle wards in this house? He mentally wondered.

"Good morning! I am Mrs. Hopkins. I live right across the street. We are neighbors I presume?"

He was startled by her high-pitched animated voice and fast speaking. Besides, Draco wasn't used to talking to muggles and wasn't too sure of how to act towards them. Even though Hermione had taught him they weren't as bad as he thought, they still were unsettling.

"Uhm... Yes, we are. I moved here yesterday."

"I see! This house was inhabited since it's owners died in a tragic tragic accident last year. Only the daughter survived, the sweetest young girl I ever met. I used to babysit her when she was little. Did she sell you the house? I never saw a selling sign/poster, and it's been months, months, I tell you, since I last saw lights inside. Do you happen to know how Hermione is doing these days? I haven't seen her since her parents' accident, the poor thing."

Draco already disliked that muggle. It was hard to keep track of what she was saying, and it was such a relief when she finished her rambling.

"She is my wife."

"Hermione Granger is your wife?!"

"She's Hermione Malfoy now. We've just came back from our honeymoon on Morroco."

"What a delightful surprise! I didn't know she had gotten married. The little angel, married! How lovely; and to such a handsome young man. I must congratulate her. Is she awake? I would hate to disturb..."

Draco had to think of something to say that would make her go away. He didn't want to stand the old muggle lady much longer, and he must certainly wasn't going to allow her inside _his_house. Besides, waking Hermione up was too risky, even if she had been sleeping for more than 12 hours already. But he had to be subtle, even if she was an annoying loud muggle, she was a neighbor, and Hermione's old babysitter, she would get mad if he gave her a bad impression. And he was tired of her getting mad at him.

"I'm afraid she is..."

"Malfoy!"

It was that exact moment that Hermione chose to come running down the stairs and successfully stumble on the last steps when she realized whom Draco was talking to in the front door.

"Hermione, are you okay, dear?" Mrs. Hopkins asked worried when she saw her.

"Yes, Mrs. Hopkins. Just fine." She forced a smile as she let Draco help her up. She had to keep up appearances. "Please, come in."

Lacking any hesitation, she stepped inside and hugged Hermione affectionately "My dear, girl, it has been such an awful long time. I did not know you were married!"

"I cannot believe it myself." And it was true.

"And to such a handsome young man, my dear. I dare say you have chosen well."

Draco smirked proudly. "She has."

It was very painful for her to nod in pretended agreement as they all sat down on a couch in the living room. She didn't like to lie.

And Draco was taking advantage of the situation sitting beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder, and practically holding her with feigned affection. But that was no surprise.

Mrs. Hopkins laughed heartedly. "It must have been a lovely wedding; family only, I presume?"

Hermione easily realized Mrs. Hopkins was asking why he had not been invited. "Yes, we wanted something _very_ little and intimate."

"We wanted to get married fast, we just couldn't wait much longer." Draco's choice of words may not have been the best for the situation.

"Oh my goodness! Hermione, sweetheart, are you expecting?" Mrs. Hopkins was clearly scandalized, her mouth dropped open, an astonished look on her face.

"No, no! We were very in love, that's all." Hermione added rapidly.

"We are."

"Yes, we are."

Mrs. Hopkins let out a huge breath. "What a relief, I wouldn't think of you to marry for any other cause. So, where did you two meet?"

"We met at school."

"Oh, you met in France! How utterly romantic!"

"Quite." Hermione didn't need to turn around to know Draco was smirking.

"But I thought _Le__ Collège Sainte-Marie des Ursulines_ was a girls boarding school?"

"The wha-?" Hermione's elbow in Draco's stomach prevented him from asking.

"Oh, yes, it is. But every now and then other schools would visit for...interschool activities. I met Draco in one _fortunate_ exchange."

"I see. But it must have been awfully hard to see each other back then, you know how boarding schools are like."

"We spent every weekend together."

"That is simply lovely. Now, I couldn't help but notice, my dears, the extravagant clothes you are wearing. Did you get them on your honeymoon?"

"Yes, they are the latest fad on Switzerland."

"I thought you went to Morocco?"

"No, we went to Switzerland, definitely"

Mrs. Hopkins looked deep in thought. "Switzerland? I was completely sure Mr. Malfoy said Morocco earlier."

"No, no, we went to Delémont, Switzerland. You _must have _misheard." Draco insisted with his cool demeanor; Hermione wondered how was it possible that he could lie so easily. "Hermione, _love,_ why don't you show her one of the souvenirs we brought? I believe there are some chocolates in the kitchens."

Hermione didn't want to leave Mrs. Hopkins alone with him. But when she looked at her, suspecting they were lying, she knew she had to oblige.

She could only nod as she got up and went hurriedly to the kitchen, knowing there were no chocolates whatsoever.

Inside there, Hermione frowned when she saw at least ten wooden boxes stocked around the floor. She frowned knowing Draco had something to do with it.

"He_ will not_ move here." She uttered.

Briefly forgetting Mrs. Hopkins was in her living room, probably investigating how much further could Draco lie, she stepped closer to the pile of boxes. "_Aperire."_ She whispered as she touched the first box with her wand.

The lid moved up, and then aside to fall on the floor. Surprisingly enough, the box was full of chocolates.

"Full of surprises...as usual." She grabbed one shiny bar, it was German chocolate. "Close." She kept looking, there was Swedish chocolate, Dutch, French...and Swiss. "Perfect," she said as she took a tiny box of Swiss chocolates.

She hurried back to the living room suddenly remembering Mrs. Hopkins was alone with Draco Malfoy. The moment she opened the door, she could hear Draco telling Mrs. Hopkins about their fabulous made up trip to the Alps.

"Most of the rain from the previous night had evaporated but higher up there was still some snow, and thus we were faced with pretty tough climbs. Hermione almost crashed down when she tripped on a rock, but_I_ was quick and close enough to grab her arm before she could fall and break her neck and every bone on her body."

Fearing any reply she could give would be sarcastic, she chose to ignore his comment as she entered the living room and offered Mrs. Hopkins the Swiss chocolates. "Here."

"Thank you, my dear." Despite her thanking, she still didn't look too convinced. "Draco here was telling me about your dramatic journey through the Alps. It truly amazes me you got to the top, you used to be completely afraid of heights when you were younger. Not too long ago, actually."

Before Draco could decide it was enough and take out his wand, Hermione spoke: "Well, we couldn't be on Switzerland and ignore the Alps. I had to give it a try."

"And I make her feel safe." Draco had to add.

"Indeed."

Mrs. Hopkins was completely sure they were lying, they could see it on her face. She was about to say something but they were saved by the bell, which sounded like an explosion coming from the basement.

Draco suddenly got up from his seat and run down the stairs while both women were startled.

"Oh my, what was that?"

Hermione could only guess Draco was up to something, something a muggle should not see. "Pipes."

"You mean your pipes exploded?" Mrs. Hopkins looked astonished, but Hermione gave her no time to wonder much more as she helped up and walked her to the door.

"Second time since we came back, we'll have to replace them all."

"I know a wonderful.."

"Thank you, but we already have one. Repairs will start soon enough, I only hope they won't disturb you or the other neighbors"

"Don't worry dear, I'll inform them. But if you need any..."

"You are right in front, I know. See you!"

Hermione knew it was rude of her to close the door on her face, but she had to.

As she locked the front door and turned around, she could see an orange gas coming from the basement and spreading through the living room.

She realized then Draco Malfoy had, without a doubt, moved in with her.

-----------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, keep them coming and I'll feel like going on with this story. Reviews make my day. :)

PS: "Cara Raggazza" means "Dear girl" in Italian.


	6. Butterflies and Hurricanes

Past - Draco's POV

I had an entire month to prepare for meeting Hermione Granger once again. She didn't know anything about that, of course, so I guess I had some sort of an advantage.

During that entire month, I studied everything I could about her. Not because I wanted to, but because it was convenient.

My parents helped me with some curious books. Mother gave me "The wizarding guide to every witch heart" and "An easy walkthrough around the muggle world". Mother and father argued about allowing me to read that last one, but mother ended up convincing him (and me), that it was for the best. After all, Hermione had been raised as a muggle and loved everything about them; it would be useful to know things about that world, even if it was an abomination.

On the other hand, father gave me "Of dark magic and love", a very old book from his mother's side of the family. He advised me never to let anyone see it; only by the name one could assume it was illegal

I wasn't looking forward to read any of those books, especially the ones mother gave me, but I wasn't looking forward to meeting Hermione either, and I had to do it anyway.

It was painful to read "The wizarding guide to every witch heart", since I would picture every scene, case, situation in that book...with her. It was still hard to digest; so much so that I would even laugh thinking something so unlikely as love could happen between us.

And useless. Would it really be of use to give her flowers, chocolates, perfume, jewelry, or whatever, only to have her laugh at me or throw it at my face? Why would I tell her I love her, if she'd only raise an eyebrow at me and ask me what's my problem? Why pretend to like her if she'll never believe it, nor feel that way about me?

She would just have to accept it on faith, as I had already done.

Everything about our "second" first meeting had been carefully planned with weeks of anticipation. I would pass by the Zabini Manor, after a two-week vacation in the Mediterranean, to see Blaise. But Blaise would have had something unexpected and couldn't be there on time, so Mrs. Zabini would invite me for some tea, and Hermione would have to be there, if only for politeness.

That day didn't work out as gracefully as planned though.

I even wished Blaise had been home.

I arrived on the scheduled time and was greeted by a a house-elf that took my cloak, then, I proceeded to sit in the waiting room. Had I not chosen to sit in front of one of the huge windows that led to the gardens, I wouldn't have seen Hermione out there, sitting with her back against a tree, apparently staring out to nowhere.

Had I been more clever, I wouldn't have decided to go out there and surprise her. I hesitated at first, but decided to give it a try and make a good impression. I needed a good impression...the first one hadn't worked very smoothly after all

Hermione had been so lost in her thoughts she didn't even see me coming. I was only a few steps away when I came to a halt; I could get a better look at her, and realized she didn't look so bad.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" I was astonishingly polite.

She looked up in surprise when she realized she was not alone. Surprise was soon replaced with something that appeared to be fear, but I couldn't be so sure. She got up in a hurry, with her back still against the tree, as if she was afraid to have it unprotected.

"Malfoy! What are you doing here?" Her sweet voice was a mixture of bewilderment and distrust. I was surprised that it didn't seem to hold any anger or distaste.

I noticed dark marks under her eyes; Blaise had told me she had been having a hard time sleeping in the Manor, nightmares haunted her dreams.

"Just passing by for a visit. Blaise should be here soon."

Her expression changed to one of plain suspicion. "He never told me you...are you supposed to be friends or something?"

I arched an eyebrow, not because of her doubting our friendship, but because Blaise was supposed to mention me every once in a while, in a good way.

"We are friends." I said, leaving no place for questions. "But do tell me, how are you doing?" I tried really hard to put on a very cool and relaxed demeanor, in hopes she would feel safer near me. Fat chance.

She wasn't even trying to hide the distrust all over her face; as a matter of fact, she looked like she would run the moment I blinked. Honestly, what was she thinking? That I would bother to hex her there, in her own home?

Hermione hesitated for a long moment before answering me cautiously: "I'm just fine."

It wasn't working out so well, and I wasn't so sure of how to fix it. I could try to make small talk, or I could try to relate to her in a more personal way. I chose wrong.

"I heard what happened; I am sorry about your...parents."

With that single sentence, all hell broke loose. Her face drastically changed from one of caution and distrust to one red with anger.

"Oh, right, because you are such a compassionate human being! How dare you come here and talk to me about that?!"

She took one step forward, and I instinctively gave one step back; I didn't even realize it, it wasn't something that I would likely do, but something in her eyes made me feel my life was at risk.

"Hey, I am being honest!"

"Honest? You? Do you think this is funny, Malfoy? You came here just to mock me? Is that it?"

Hermione was literally trembling with rage, and I could see a single tear run down her face. I wanted to smack myself on the head, I should have definitely have chosen the small talk.

"I—" Even if I could have come with something good enough to say, she wouldn't have let me.

"Just tell me, what do you want from me? Now you know the truth, I am a pureblood, I am a Zabini, I am disgustingly rich. But hey, I might still be worth a laugh." She was yelling now, her jaw tightened as she ground her teeth together, expecting a retort.

I could admit I deserved her distrust, her insults, and more; but not out loud. What I honestly didn't know is what made me think I could just go there and pretend nothing had ever been wrong between us without her mother present to justify my nice attitude.

A sudden wave of anger overcame me. Never mind my wrong assumptions, still, I was trying to be nice to her! How come she didn't see that? It was frustrating beyond belief.

My mouth soon turned into a scowl as I clenched my fists in anger.

"That's not what I meant." I was trying really hard to contain my anger.

"What do you expect me to believe? That you are nice and reformed? That you didn't pay a bunch of corrupt judges for your freedom? That you shouldn't be rotting in Azkaban along with the rest of your family?"

That was it. I couldn't stand it any longer Her attitude made me recall everything I disliked about her; and on top of that, I had tried to be nice to her and I would have to stand her for the rest of my life. Enough was enough.

I took one step closer to her, and, before my feet could reach the ground, Hermione took her wand and pointed it at me. Probably believing I was going to physically assault her or something of the sort. Which was far from reality, I was only planning on calling her every name that was going trough my mind.

And thus, I found myself diving out of the way of a stunning spell. If I felt anger before, now what I felt was wrath.

I was fast enough to take my own wand and counterattack with another stunning spell, but she blocked it.

I don't know how long we battled, perhaps 5 minutes, it wasn't a long time. We were both rather good dodging and blocking spells.

It was probably the smoke emanating from a couple of trees on fire that made Mrs. Zabini rush out of the house to meet us. She didn't even bother yelling for us to stop, she just magically put an invisible barrier between us, where our last spells collided.

Gasping for air, I lowered my wand when I realized the fight was over. I didn't want to take my eyes from Hermione's though, her face was still red with anger. She was panting and clutching her stomach as she coughed. When she finally let her guard down, she fell to her knees to cough harshly.

Blue bubbles came out of her mouth as she coughed; it was a rather funny spell I used on first years back at Hogwarts. I silently thought she should appreciate she wasn't coughing blood.

As I said that, blood was exactly what I coughed. I saw the red marks on my hand. At least now I had something to say in my defense, she had used deadlier spells than me; she had not tried to kill me, but she had surely tried to hurt me.

Mrs. Zabini took us inside the Manor, walking in between us, our wands in her power, her hands grabbing our clothes from behind as if we were little children. Hermione and I didn't take our eyes off each other during the whole walk. If looks could kill, we would have been six feet underground before reaching the house.

My parents arrived soon enough, and as father proceeded to scold me, mother helped Mrs. Zabini fix the disaster we left in the gardens. Four trees were burning, there were cracks all over the ground were we had been quarreling, and some strange colours had appeared all around the area.

When both women were done, my father was still yelling at me. Apparently he felt at home enough in the Zabini Manor to unleash his anger there, I noticed; of course, that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Once back at our Manor, my mother joined my father in the scolding. I dare say, I had to stand about two hours of yelling and scolding. When they were done, my ears were buzzing.

Later in my room, I laid on my bed; all of my muscles were sore, my head was aching from all the yelling, and my hearing was rather sensitive.

I no longer felt angry towards Hermione though, I just felt stupid and hopeless. I had seriously screwed it up. Well, it was to be expected...nothing could go smoothly between us.

Once again, I regretted my fate...but also, I realized, I felt bad for her. I had seen the hurt in her eyes, I had heard the pain in her voice, I had felt her wrath in my skin...and I deserved it all.

--

Present

It started with a giggle; soon, and despite her attempts to prevent it, it progressed to laughter. A loud, funny and neverending laughter.

"What...have you done?!" Hermione's couldn't contain her laughter as she spoke. Her content tone betrayed her words.

"Don't breathe!" Draco yelled as he covered his mouth and nose with a tissue.

Hermione, apparently, found his words quite hilarious; but she couldn't follow his directions. "I can't!"

She wanted to stop her hysterical laughter, she wanted to have her self-control back, she wanted to scold Draco for doing whatever he had done, but even though she tried, she couldn't help it.

Making the most of the little oxygen he had left, Draco yelled once again: "Run!"

The sound of his voice was the last thing she recalled when she woke up to be greeted with a familiar and unpleasant view: A white ceiling.

Her assumption was immediately confirmed when she stared to her left side. She was in a hospital room. The last time she had been in a hospital, she had received the worse news in her life.

What had happened? She felt numb...the last thing she remembered was a blurry image of Draco Malfoy...

She silently sat up, a soft groan came out of her throat as she felt her numb muscles coming back to life.

On her right side, there was another bed, occupied by the sleeping form of Draco Malfoy. She gasped at the realization and clumsily got out of her bed to go by his side.

Staring at his expressionless face, she felt something she had never felt for him: concern, a strange overwhelming concern. She didn't even stop for a moment to consider her actions, and, against better judgment, she put a hand on his shoulder and spoke to him.

"Draco! Wake up, please...Draco!" She urged him; something wasn't right, she could tell. He didn't even stir.

A rush of panic came over her, why wouldn't he wake up?

"Draco!"

Her eyes were soon wet with tears. In any other situation she would have stopped a minute to analyze her emotions and her actions, but waking him up was all she could think of. He had to wake up and tell her everything was all right. He had to smile and tell her it wasn't the end of the world, he had to go back to being his humors sadistic and annoying self...

Something deep inside of her was telling her she was overreacting, but she couldn't listen.

A minute later Blaise Zabini entered the room to see something he would have never imagined: His sister was sobbing uncontrollably on top of one Draco Malfoy. Her head was buried in his chest, her breathing was irregular, her voice cracked as she mumbled "Please wake up..."

It was so surreal he didn't react immediately; but soon enough he was by Hermione's side, trying to get her off Draco. "He won't wake up, Hermione". Blaise tried to reason with her, but his words only made it all worse.

A guttural "NO!" came from Hermione's mouth as she tried desperately to go back to Draco. Blaise could hardly believe what was happening, even though he understood she had misinterpreted his sentence.

"He's all right, he's just under the effect of a sleeping potion."

Only then, Hermione stopped her useless wrestling against Blaise's arms and turned to stare up at his eyes. Her eyes were still shedding tears when she realized it made sense...he was breathing after all…she had noticed it, but somehow she hadn't...realized it.

"Now, what's wrong with you?" There was concern all over his voice; the last time he had seen his sister react that way, it was when she was informed about her betrothal, and a couple of other times when she realized there was no way out.

She tried to regain her breath and dry her tears before speaking again. "I...I thought he was...gone." She couldn't bring herself to say "dead", she couldn't stand the thought of it...

Death... that was something she didn't want to quarrel over again; she just couldn't.

She slowly sat on her bed along with Blaise; she leaned her head against his shoulder, still staring at Draco with concern in her eyes.

"What happened to him?" Somehow, she had forgotten something had happened to her as well to be there.

"Apparently something went wrong with a potion and he got the worst part of it. You don't remember anything, do you?"

She shook her head against him.

"For what I've been told, he apparated here, holding you. You were having a fit of laughter, it got only worse every second, you were getting asphyxiated all by your own self. The healers tried a ton of potions to stop it, until one of them made you faint. Draco was in the same condition as you, but he lost consciousness sooner."

Even though she tried, she couldn't remember anything about that.

"They told us of the situation, we told them you had been at your house; assuming you were under the effects of a potion, the Ministry sent a couple of officials to your house. The next thing we knew, the place was on quarantine."

Memories of an orange smoke came to her mind, as Blaise kept on talking.

"Apparently, someone added an extra drop of Bellevalia Longistyla essence to a cheering potion. Mother is in the cafeteria with Mrs. Malfoy, by the way."

Hermione pushed herself away from his body to stare at his face with an amused expression on her face

"A cheering potion?" She whispered, unable to believe it herself. Of all the possible potions Draco Malfoy could have brewed... She didn't know what was more stunning, the fact that he had been brewing such a "kind" potion, or the fact that he had done it wrong. He had always been as skilled in potions as she was after all.

"It's remarkably odd; neither of you are the type to mess up with the Bellevalia Longistyla essence. Thank Merlin it was only one drop, you might not have survived two mistakes."

She shuddered at the thought. Bellevalia essence was one of the main ingredients of a powerful cheering potion, but also of many other deadly potions, it worked as venom by itself. What had Draco been thinking? How could he be so clumsy? ...but...What if it had not been a mistake? What if he had actually wanted to make a lethal potion out of an apparently good cheering potion?

"Blaise..." She averted her gaze from his to go back to stare at the sleeping form of her husband.

"You don't think...he..." She could hardly say it, he couldn't hate her all that much, could he? They have been married only for two days...he had told her over and over and over again there could be a chance for them; had the fight of their wedding night been the last straw?

"What?" Blaise didn't have a clue of what was going through Hermione's mind.

"...he wanted to kill me?" She murmured, barely able to believe it herself, even though it made sense. Why not? The only way to get away from the marriage deal was if one of the spouses died. If she died, he would be free.

"Are you serious?" He lifted her chin to make eye contact with her once again. Blaise could hardly believe his sister's dislike for Draco could go as far to even consider such a thing. She did nothing but stare at his eyes with a concerned expression. It was a silly idea, she knew it, but she needed reassurance

"He doesn't hate you, Hermione. What proof do you need? He saved your life bringing you here. He could have left you there to die. It would have been easy to work out an alibi...a potion went wrong, he wasn't home."

He slowly let go of her chin, but didn't stop staring at her deep brown eyes. "Hasn't he told you he likes you?"

"Uhmm...well..." She was unsure of what to answer. Draco had showed himself more than willing to be with her, he had been kind most of the time, and he made her so uncomfortable... but she didn't believe he really liked her; it was more likely that he acted under convenience and command.

"I'd dare say he was brewing the potion for himself and made one single mistake. He wouldn't try to kill you, Hermione. Why would you think something like that? You don't honestly believe he is that bad...you were crying over him after all; did I miss something?" He arched an eyebrow.

Hermione thought about that, it was true, she had been crying over him, thinking he had died. Of course, she could say she was a noble person and didn't want anyone to die, and that included her not-so-beloved husband; besides, there was also the fact that she hadn't gotten over her parents' deaths, and seeing Draco laying there and not responding to anything made her remember she had not seen her parents bodies, she had been unconscious during the funeral, she didn't know if it wouldn't have done her better to say one last good-bye.

But despite all that, could it be that she had grown to appreciate him in the last few months? Even though she didn't trust him and could hardly like him. Could it be possible that she was fooling herself...or...

Suddenly, she chuckled softly, the answer was rather simple actually. "It must have been a side effect of the potion, along with the horror of being here and seeing someone in that condition." She hesitated at her own words. "But, perhaps I don't think he is all that bad. Truth is, I don't want to give him a chance, I don't want to accept all this even though I know I have no choice, Blaise, and now I realize...a huge part of me feels guilty for that."

Blaise leaned closer to her and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. "There's no rush." She looked up at him with a questioning look on her face.

"Sooner or later, you'll do something about that guilt."

"How can you be so sure about that?" She inquired with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, firstly, you can't feel that way forever, and secondly, you don't have much of a choice."

--

A/N: I love reviews, keep them coming.  Do tell me, what do you think? How is it so far? What do you expect? Are you looking forward to reading something in particular about the past story?


	7. Force of Nature

**Hermione's POV**

Hyppolyta Zabini, my biological mother, could easily be seen as the most loving, caring and adorable person in the world--that is, from the outside. However, once one got to know her from the inside, there were some rather interesting twists to the story.

I am not saying she isn't loving and caring, or that her politeness and cheerfulness is just an act. No, that's her real personality.

What any other person doesn't get to find out easily are her natural manipulation skills, her ways to always get what she wants; may it be power, money or people, I seriously believe she wouldn't have any problem becoming the Minister of Magic if she wanted to. She was dangerous, and I appeared to be the one one who realized that at its full potential.

But she didn't scare me, she worried me. I was worried that one day her ambition would send her either to jail or to her own death. Why did I care so much about her? Care enough to keep her darkest secrets, in order to oblige to her petitions...?

I am not sure; perhaps it is because she is my mother, perhaps because I owe her my life, perhaps because she was of great help during my days and weeks of depression, perhaps for the way she cared about me. Perhaps because I could see a good person beneath her ambition and all of the deeds I knew she had committed so far.

But even though I cared that much about her, I couldn't forgive her for what she did to me, I still can't.

It was so harsh the day I found out. I would say I was coping rather well with my circumstances by then. It had been three months since my parents' death, I had become friends with my brother, and I would even say I found a glimpse of happiness whenever I spent time with my family.

Of course, what better time to share heart-wrenching news than when one's finally recovering from the last vestiges of pain?

I could have never foreseen what she was about to tell me that sunny afternoon, when she was combing my wet hair in my room after spending hours in the pool. The day had passed by nicely until she asked me, "What do you think of Draco Malfoy, darling?"

I was surprised to hear that question coming from her lips, she knew I didn't care for anyone in the Malfoy family; even though I had gotten used to seeing Draco every now and then, he usually came around to see Blaise. He and his family would join us for dinner once or twice a week; we would be invited to their house for dinner and tea every now and then, as well, but I could always find an excuse not to go there. I couldn't prevent attending in my own house, though; I only avoided it a couple of times.

"You know I am not particularly fond of him, Mother, why do you ask?" Her polite and almost old fashioned ways had gotten to me after three months of inhabiting the same house, at least when I was around her it seemed oddly inevitable to mimic her velvet manners.

"Perhaps if you could keep your prejudices aside, my dear, you could see he is...quite a catch." I didn't know how to react towards her statement, I wanted to snort, I wanted to laugh and assume it was a joke, but I also wanted to arch an eyebrow in bewilderment, because I knew her well enough to know she wasn't joking.

"I'd rather catch a disease" I mumbled quietly but loud enough for her to hear. What was she up to, I wondered. Why would she be trying to set me up with him of all people?

She didn't stop the rhythmic combing of my curls as she spoke, as composed as usual. "That's a little bit harsh, don't you think? He's not as bad as you believe."

"But bad he is." I rhymed ironically. I couldn't believe she was trying to set me up with him so openly, so naturally.

"I wouldn't say he is bad, he simply has a different way of analyzing things than you."

"You could say the exact same thing about Voldermort." My tone completely serious and surprisingly harsh didn't surprise her at all; she did, however, stop combing my hair, allowing me to turn around and face her.

"Of course, but young Draco is not a sadistic person, nor does he have an ambition for power and domination, at least not as the Dark Lord had."

"He hates muggles, he wishes they didn't exist."

"Yet, he does not harm them."

"You hate muggles, too." I whispered, almost to myself. It was a fact I didn't want to cope with, but I knew nonetheless. She had been in Slytherin, after all; she never dared touch the subject around me, but now the time had come.

"As you clearly put it before, my love, I am not very fond of them; I do not hate them though, and I've never done them any harm. Perhaps you could think the same way about Draco."

"Are you asking me to think of him as the rocks in the forest? Something that's there and it's dispensable? Something not worth fighting for? Something to throw aside because it doesn't look good enough to appear in a picture?" I was describing the way I thought she felt about muggles, it was the impression I had, but a rather light version.

"I am asking you to give him a chance." Her face was now deadly serious as we faced each other, there was nothing but a perplexed expression on my face.

"What are you talking about?"

"I strongly believe it would be for the best, sweetheart."

"For the best?" I arched one eyebrow, now suspicious. "Have the Malfoys threatened you, Mother? Is that the reason they have been coming here so often in the past month?"

I asked cautiously, wondering what problem she had gotten herself into; I was too naive to suspect she was the source of the problem herself. She never took advantage of that though, I must give her credit for that.

"The Malfoys are not the threat that lingers upon our heads, dear, but magic itself."

"I am not following."

"There's no easy way to say this; I'll have to show you". She took a deep breath and chanted: "_Permissum contego tutela is filia of mei rumpus..."_

I translated the chanting in my mind, she was breaking a shielding spell, one she had created, I assumed, to protect me. I didn't know from what though.

As soon as she said it, I sneezed, loudly. And, somehow, the mirror beside me shattered. I turned to look, completely confused; her chanting couldn't have broken the mirror, she only had put an end to a spell, a shielding spell nonetheless.

"What hap—" I couldn't finish my sentence because, as I was standing up, I managed to trip on my own feet and fall, only to be catch by my mother's arms. It was unusual of me to be so clumsy.

I only stared at her, a confused expression on my face as I waited for an explanation. "What were you protecting me from?" I whispered as I turned my head to look at the shattered mirror again. Some big pieces of glass had managed to fall and stumble some of my perfumes, some of which fell from the cabinet to the floor, breaking in thousands of pieces and ruining the carpet.

"Misfortune," she answered, as calmly as possible.

"A curse," I reasoned out loud. How come though? Why would I have a curse? The Malfoys and the word "curse" applied well enough in the same sentence. "That's it; they'll all be in Azkaban after I tell Kingsley Shacklebolt about this." Immediately I was outraged, wondering what they had done to me.

"It's not only their doing, dear." I looked up at her and immediately detached myself from her arms as I stepped aside.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously. I didn't like the tone in her voice, it was almost regretful.

"This kind of curses...they work with blood."

Suddenly, I felt very cold, a shiver ran down my spine and I unconsciously braced myself; I knew what she was implying: blood curses were almost unbreakable, if my own blood was involved, the only way out was agreeing to a deal, a deal which the curse was created for.

"Have they...have they used your blood, mother? That's it? They used your blood to force you to do something...?" It made sense, if her blood was involved, mine would be as well, not in such a grand proportion, since I only had half of her genes, but the curse could still affect me, not as much as it would affect her, but it was still dangerous, both for my brother and for me.

"My blood, their blood, your father's blood...and your own." She said as she walked towards my bed and sat on the edge, inviting me to sit next to her. I didn't want to.

"What have you done?" Now, I was definitely trembling with fear. Anxiety and fear were my only feelings as I stared terrified at her face. My voice only came in a whisper, I could barely hear it myself.

She sighed dramatically, it would seem she had gone through this in her head time and time again and it had turned out wrong. "When you were born, I wanted to ensure your future..."

And so she began her tale; a tale a I didn't want to hear, a tale I wished so badly wasn't true. I was already crying before she got to the worse part, the part were she told me what I had to do to break free from the curse.

--

**Present**

"Seriously, what's wrong with you, Malfoy?"

Draco didn't answer at first, he was staring out the carriage's window. Both Hermione and him were going to Malfoy Manor after leaving the hospital. Hermione wasn't thrilled about it, and neither was Malfoy; she couldn't understand why, though, and she didn't like it.

"None of your business, Granger." His voice was stern and dull, his regular cool and almighty attitude was missing. And he had called her "Granger", he only did that when he was really pissed off; however, he was not yelling nor insulting her. In fact, they had neither fought nor argued in days. He had avoided her the whole two days they had been staying at the hospital.

Well, he had been sleeping on the first day, but on the second day it was actually he who requested a separate room, alleging he didn't want to risk her condition. Apparently the hospital board believed him and obliged. However, Hermione knew it wasn't out of courtesy

"I just don't get it. My house is on quarantine and I am moving to yours. I should be the angry one!"

This change of roles certainly didn't amuse her. She didn't know which side of him she disliked more, the insisting lovey-dovey one, or this numb and hostile one. He could certainly be unnerving in any way.

He didn't answer, he just stared at the outsides. Malfoy Manor could be seen not too far away. Hermione couldn't be sure he was looking at it though, his hands were clenched into fists, his sight was practically glued to the window, he looked so tense. Hermione was getting worried, not for herself, but for him.

He had to be mad at her, she couldn't imagine the exact reason, but what other explanation could there be? Draco didn't want to talk to her, because if he did, he would start an argument, and he knew better than that. Could he actually be quarreling between his anger and his instructions to behave himself?

Hermione sighed softly and looked down at her hands on her lap. She couldn't understand it, she couldn't explain it. She needed to know.

"Please, talk to me." She pleaded softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Surprised by the change in her voice, Draco slowly turned his head around to face her. Surprise was soon replaced by a wave of indifference all over his body.

"I have nothing to say to you." He said it as if he really meant it, as if she was not worth his breath, as if she wasn't even there.

All of the sudden, she felt negligible. After months of swirls emotions, it was the first time Hermione felt she wasn't worthy. She could hardly believe a single sentence coming from him could break her spirits, but it did.

Hermione stared back at him, hardly believing her ears. She wanted to say something, to talk back to him, but she couldn't think of anything. Then she averted her gaze from his to stare at the window beside her. She clenched her own fists and surreptitiously bit her bottom lip. She was not going to cry in front of him.

When they reached the Manor, Mrs. Malfoy greeted them curtly. Hermione noticed she didn't look overjoyed either; and she didn't scold her son for his attitude. Something was wrong.

Draco probably wouldn't have walked Hermione to her room if his mother hadn't told him to.

"Come with me." He simply told her; his tone was not harsh, but it was cold, as cold as his indifference. She followed him without granting him with an answer, it wasn't like she had a choice, she barely knew her way around her own family's Manor, she would only get lost in Malfoy Manor.

Hermione never liked Malfoy Manor. It was big, it was dark and gloomy, even when all of the curtains were opened and the sunlight enlightened it all. And she had to walk four sets of stairs to the east wing, where her bedroom apparently was.

Draco opened the door for her, but didn't look at her face not even once. Hermione wondered if he was going to behave like that all day.

The bedroom was way bigger than her room at Zabini Manor, the large windows led to a full view of the gardens, the walls were of a pale peach colour, the floors were of white marble. There was a fireplace and a sofa in front of it that matched with the huge king sized bed covered with a light yellow coverlet, two dark wooden nightstands at each side of the bed, and two others doors, that led to the bathroom and the wardrobe, she assumed

"This is _our_ room," Draco stated, now looking at her in the eyes, daring her to say something. She felt intimidated at first, part of her wanted to put up a fight, to retort, to tell him all kinds of things for treating her that way; but the other part told her that she was getting what she deserved, he was acting the same way she had been acting towards him on the past few months.

"But you won't be sleeping here, will you?" She asked warily, partly knowing the answer. She knew Draco wasn't going to willingly share neither a room nor a bed with her. He would have a few days ago, but something had changed.

"No, I will be in my old room on the third floor." He turned his back to her to leave, but Hermione grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

"Wait!"

"What?" He turned slowly, arching an eyebrow.

"When can we talk?"

"Why do you care so much?" He had an angered, yet amused expression on his face.

"I want to know what's wrong with you."

"Too bad."

He averted his arm from her grasp and left leaving a speechless Hermione behind. She didn't know if she should have felt shocked about his reaction, what was there to expect? He wouldn't have opened up to her to tell her whatever it was he felt. Despite his regular attempts to get close to her, he never shared his confidences with her.

Hermione knew most of his words were made up, most of his manners around her were an act; the real Draco Malfoy wasn't all cheery and comforting as he usually tried to prove her.

Today he had showed her a glimpse of his real self, he didn't want to act, he didn't want to pretend he liked her; he was probably sick of her. Could that be it? Perhaps the reason for his ultimate demeanor was that he had had enough, he couldn't pretend any longer

Most people would think she was nuts for thinking this way, but she liked Draco better when he didn't act, even if that meant she had to put up with his horrible temper. Not that she liked his bad moods, but at least they were _real_, they made sense! They proved to her that she wasn't living in a complete twisted reality where Draco Malfoy suddenly was Mr. Bright Eyes and she was supposed to love him.

When the sound of his steps faded away, she walked to the windows to check the view. She appreciated the Malfoys' gardens; they were beautiful even though they had a Gothic touch. She wondered if Draco used to play around those old statues when he was a child, she could imagine a young blond child running around and playing in those gardens.

Immediately she thought if something he said could be right; could they have a chance as a couple? Could they have a child who would play in those gardens and run around the house? Would she ever have the chance to be a mother? The thought of having a child with Draco Malfoy didn't excite her, but partly, it didn't disgust her...not if he could prove to her that he could be real, that he wasn't an act...and if she liked what lay beyond that act. Not his aggressiveness, not his mood swings, but what lay underneath it all. She knew there was more than what meets the eye, she just wasn't sure she would like what it was.

After all, she didn't like most of the things she did know about Malfoy. He could be civil and even caring towards her, but if she were a muggleborn, he would only despise and disgrace her, she knew that much, and it was enough for not allowing herself to like him. She couldn't like a muggle-hater, even if she could at least get close to understand his reasons beyond that.

His reasons were obvious, that was just the way he had been raised; but why couldn't he see beyond that? Hermione knew Draco was a smart man, he could see beyond his prejudices if he wanted to. But that was the thing: he didn't want to.

He had been trying to prove her otherwise, he had told her little things he knew about the muggle world, at first she was surprised, later she recognized the book where he had been taking the definitions from. She wanted to think about it as an advance; he had been actually reading a book about muggles, perhaps he wanted to change, perhaps he would even like what he read. But that was a fat chance. She could hardly get her own brother to like them.

It was there, in that room that she had to assume as hers alone, that she wondered for the first time since she had gotten married what she would do about Draco Malfoy. He was her husband, it hurt to admit it, but it was true. In any other time she would have expected to say that about Ron Weasley, but she knew now that was not a possibility.

Right now, she couldn't like Malfoy much, not even close to what she felt for Ron when she first met him; but could she grow to love him as he said? Could there be a chance? And did he even want that or did he just want to go on with his family legacy and tradition? The second possibility was the most accurate.

Hermione sighed loudly as she fell onto the couch by the fireplace. She didn't know what to do. She knew what the people in her life would advise her to do--her mother, persuasive and opportunist as usual, would tell her to forget every wrong aspect about him and start all over again; that was not a possibility.

Ron would explain to her his plans to murder him, Harry would tell her he's up for whatever it is she would want, even if that means following Ron's train of thought. And Blaise, he would probably say the same thing as Harry, but he would most likely try and persuade her not to kill Draco and give him a chance instead.

She wanted to believe Draco Malfoy could be a better man, even though he was his father's son, she was almost sure he wasn't a killer, he wasn't keen to torture either, and she dared believe he didn't even support them. It was something he wasn't proud of, but he didn't like seeing other's suffer. Perhaps he didn't find it fair, perhaps he was sensitive enough to feel the pain as his own, or perhaps he just had a lousy stomach. In truth, Hermione didn't know; and one of the things that bothered her the most was having to deal with his acting. Sometimes it was so hard to separate truth from reality that she preffered to assume everything he said and did was a lie.

How could she grow to like someone whom she could hardly trust? Someone who despised muggles and muggleborns, someone who had been in the dark side.. the son of a death-eater. She told herself over and over again that it wasn't his fault, he hadn't chosen his parents, he hadn't even chosen a side, for he had been born into one. But nowadays, she didn't know which side he would choose if he had the chance. He wasn't unhappy about the outcome of the war, but he probably wouldn't mind if Voldemort had won either; not as long as his family maintained a high status.

One could say Draco was almost neutral, almost. Neutral wasn't good enough for her. She sighed loudly, and subsequently heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" She said, never mind proper etiquette, it was supposed to be her Manor, too, after all.

The door opened effortlessly to show Narcissa Malfoy. There was a cold aura around her, as usual; she didn't look compassionate, just plain indifferent. Hermione regretted her response when she looked at her face; it hadn't been a nice start.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, I thought Draco was at the door." She straightened, feeling exposed under her gaze.

"I could hardly believe he would knock to enter to his own room." Her voice was polite, but severe at the same time, as well as her words. Narcissa stood in the entrance as she spoke, "So, now you'll finally be staying here, I believe it's time for you to know a few things about your new home."

Hermione was about to say she wasn't planning on staying long, but decided against after seeing Narcissa's face.

"You are not obliged to attend breakfast, but supper and dinner will not be served for only one family member at any time of the day. Supper is served at midday, dinner starts at 9 o clock in the evening every day. If you happen to miss a meal, you might as well have it in the kitchens."

Hermione nodded absently.

"You may change the decorations of this wing if you wish, but I am in charge of the rest of the Manor. Any other changes you might consider appropriate must be approved by me. You may be in charge of the children's wing on the third floor whenever you will be expecting."

Hermione nodded once again, this time repressing a sigh. Over the past months she had learn it was the best choice when dealing both with her mother and Narcissa Malfoy. There was no use to arguing, she would not be listened, or at least, taken seriously.

"If you do not have any appointments during the weekend, and thus are in the house, you are expected to attend the afternoon tea whenever we have a guest. If I do not happen to be in the Manor, you are supposed to take my place as hostess and Lady of the Manor. I trust your mother has tought you the appropriate manners and protocol to take such a position?"

"She has." That wasn't an experience she had actually enjoyed, but she knew it would be useful nonetheless, although she wasn't looking forward to hosting anything in her entire life.

"You may only be excused from your duties in the Manor due to illness, pregnancy or vacation in a country outside the United Kingdom. Holidays, parties and any other type of family encounter that is to take place here must be planned and agreed upon within a week of the anticipated date. If not, you are not obliged to attend; however, it would be most appropriate if you did."

"And finally, I have been informed that I should explain you we have 6 house elves in the household. They are not to be seen, they must only be acknowledged in case of utter need; and most importantly, they must not be freed." She dared her to object.

"Yes." She knew that one was coming.

"Very well then. I hope you do not plan on locking yourself in this wing, your presence around the rest of the Manor would be most appreciated, dear."

Hermione was taken off guard by her words, it was very strange of Narcissa Malfoy to compliment her openly and without Mrs. Zabini close by. Even though her words sounded sincere, she could hardly understand why would Narcissa want her around.

"All right," She answered barely above a whisper. It was no time for arguments, she felt, it was not a time to put up a fight. It was time to take a break; she needed to regain strength once again.

And when she did, she would think about what to do about Draco Malfoy.

--

A/N: Well, that was one long chapter, wasn't it? I was planning on making it shorter, but it turned out this way. I am hoping to have next chapter in...less than a month! I already have half of it, writen from Blaise's POV.

Thank you so much for all of your encouraging reviews, they make my day. Please, do tell me what do you think about this chapter, I enjoyed writing Hermione's thoughts and her change of role.


	8. The Steps we take

**Blaise's POV**

It wasn't until the following day that we received news about Hermione; she appeared through the floo in the fireplace. I remember so clearly the look upon her face. She tried really hard to feign indifference, something I did rather often, but she failed terribly at it; she was almost shaking with anger. She didn't look at our mother or at me when we went to greet her.

Mother tried to reason with her, but she only looked away and showed her her back as she walked to her room. I followed her when Mother finally gave up pleading for her to listen.

"I am not talking to you either, Blaise." She glared at me, not menacingly but sadly. She looked hurt, her voice trembled. When I looked at her face, I felt guilty for the first time since I met her. But I wasn't going to take the blame for something I was not guilty of.

"Give me a break, Hermione; I never agreed to any of this!"

As the door closed, she took a deep breath and slowly lifted up her head to look me in the eyes. "How long have you known?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, she was having a hard time trying to keep her voice.

"That's not the point! I wasn't part of it, I was just as old as you are when they made the deal. If I could..." A sob stopped my ranting, and one was soon followed by another. It hurt me to listen to her crying; not that I ever would have admitted it.

I walked to her. Dealing with girls' emotions was always uncomfortable, but I was used to it, I knew what I had to do. I went to her and slowly put my hand on her shoulder. "If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have allowed it." I whispered only for her to hear.

"You could have told me, Blaise, I trusted you!" Her response between sobs was immediate. I understood how she felt, partly; I was never comfortable with my position in my mother's plans, but it was for the best.

"I know, but how would you have liked to find out you were engaged the moment you found out about the accident and about us? Or during your...episodes?" She had been so depressed during the first month and a half she stayed in our home we feared for her life.

She didn't answer, she only fought a sob and walked away from me to start her packing.

"I don't want this to be an obstacle between us, Hermione." It was true, I never thought I would feel that way, but I liked having her as my sister.

"You are his friend." That wasn't entirely true. I got along well with Draco, but we weren't that good of friends, although our friendship was growing as the weeks passed by.

"That didn't seem to bother you before."

She stopped throwing clothes away from her wardrobe to turn and look at me. "Why don't you tell me the truth, Blaise? Are you really friends with him or was it just convenience? Are we friends or are you just pretending? Will you please tell me what's real?"

Her assumption shocked me; one could say half of it was true, but if I recognized one fact, she wouldn't believe another... "We are friends, you and I. I promise you."

She stared at me absently for a moment and broke my heart once again as she fell to her knees on the floor and sobbed, hiding her face with her hands. I had lost her trust.

"Please, don't cry." I begged her, on my knees and next to her once again. Hermione only kept on crying and mumbling "I can't do this." What was I to do?

My only thought then was comforting her, that was all I wanted to do, I wanted to make her tears go away, I wanted to tell her everything would turn out right, I wanted to tell her she had nothing to feel sad for...but it wasn't true, her feelings were accurate, what else could she do but whine and cry? What else could she feel but pain, fear and betrayal?

I felt like a monster. I wasn't sure of what I had done, but somehow I knew I was guilty. "I am so sorry, Hermione."

Perhaps she could sense the empathy in my voice, because after only a moment she hugged me, fiercely hugged me; and I hugged her back. As she sobbed onto my chest, I realized all I wanted to do with my life right then was protect her. "I'll do anything for you." I whispered, not with the intent of regaining her trust as I had first intended, but just hoping she'd understand what I meant, how I felt.

I am not entirely sure if she understood, because she only sobbed harder. And she kept going for I don't know how many minutes, until there was a knock on the door. As she calmed herself down, she yelled: "Leave me alone" in the direction of the door, and slowly began to regain her composure

"What am I going to do, Blaise? I can't...I can't possibly..." She detached herself from my body and turned her head to the side to face the floor. Her words came slowly, her voice was trembling, but she didn't have any more tears to shed, or so it would seem.

I knew the answer, it was simple: Nothing, there was nothing she could do but agree to the contract; at least that was the clean path, the other path was...deadlier. But what to tell her? I couldn't lie and say there was hope.

"I don't know." It was the honest truth, I didn't know what she could do; it was clear she was neither going to willingly marry Malfoy, nor kill him, nor would she be the type to allow the curse kill all of us. "Do you know your options?"

"Agree or die?" She shrugged ironically, staring now at me.

"Or..."

"Please, don't say that, Blaise. You know I am not like that."

"It's an option."

She shook her head and looked down again. "I am not a murderer, and neither are you."

Hermione got up to stand on her feet and continued to pack her things. "There's got to be a solution, and I will find it." Her voice changed to one full of determination.

"I'll help you." I knew it would be pointless, I knew it was a risk to our lives, but there was nothing I wanted more than to help her out.

--

**Present**

It wasn't unlikely of Hermione to get lost in Malfoy Manor, it was a habit she hadn't quite gotten rid of at Zabini Manor. What was the deal with those huge houses anyway? What was the need of having dozens of rooms the inhabitants hardly ever used?

She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she didn't think it would be that easy to get lost when she had such accurate instructions. She was staying on the fourth floor, therefore, one would think that it would take just one set of stairs to get to the third floor, but somehow, she had managed to get somewhere in between, or so she thought.

The paintings in the corridors didn't make it any easier for her; they knew who she was, but they didn't seem to respect her at all. She wasn't exactly proud of being a pureblood, she didn't care at all about her blood, but still, she wondered why Malfoy's ancestors didn't like her any better if she was one.

"No Malfoy has the right to look as you do." "Who allowed you to wear that?" "You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name." She heard these comments as she made her way through the Manor. At first, she refused to pay attention to the rude portraits, but they were slowly getting to her; she didn't think she looked that bad, her hair was tamed, she was wearing very light make-up, just a little blush on her cheeks; her ring wouldn't get off her finger, and her clothes were designer brands; her mother had insisted.

Hermione looked up at one of the portraits; underneath it read "Mrs. Arianne D. Malfoy. 1705-1787." The woman didn't look any different from all of the other Mrs Malfoys she had seen in the paintings; slender, blonde, light eyes, pale, aristocratic, muggle-hater. This portrait had only called her an ugly-duckling, perhaps she could be of help.

"Excuse me, madam; could you please tell me where the passageway to the stairs is? I need to get to the first floor."

The woman in the painting arched an eyebrow. "30 steps right, second door to the left."

Of course, Hermione should have foreseen the portraits wouldn't help her the way she needed. Ironically enough, Arianne Malfoy sent her to a room of mirrors. It was strange though, she didn't picture the Malfoys having some sort of a ballet room.

It was beautiful, the floor was light wood, the walls were mirrors, only mirrors. There was one huge window with a balcony. Hermione headed toward it; perhaps seeing the outside could help her figure out where she was.

Outside, she could see the sun shining, the flowers blooming, the birds signing, and even a couple of horses in the distance. She knew Draco was fond of his horses, he had invited her to mount with him time and time again, but she had never accepted. She was fond of horses too, but not of him.

Somehow, Hermione had managed to get to the second floor, she noticed. Also, something caught her eye. All of the windows in the Manor were opened, allowing the sunlight to enter its rooms, all of them but a couple in the west wing, in the very same floor she was in.

This wing, in the second floor, appeared to have all sort of recreation rooms, such as the ballet studio, the board-games room, the gym, a painting and drawing studio, and some others she hadn't came upon yet.

If the third and fourth floors were exclusively for bedrooms (and the bedrooms' living rooms, bathrooms, wardrobes and libraries), it was most possible that the east wing of the second floor was the working area of the Manor, where Lucius's study was.

One of the very few things she didn't mind about staying at Malfoy Manor was the chance to uncover some important information; she hoped to find some files, hopefully some sort of register pertaining attacks and deaths...she knew many people who had lost loved ones in battle, and didn't even know upon whose wand they had fallen. And, perhaps most importantly, information about deatheaters, something that would help get the ones who were still on the run, and more proof of the activities of the ones who had been caught.

The Malfoys had already given lots of information (and money) in order to regain their freedom, but it was obvious that there had to be more; after all, it wasn't like they would incriminate themselves.

She counted the windows from one side to the other, hoping it would help her not to get lost once again. As she left the ballet room, excitement took over and thus she run, trying to keep track of how many doors and corridors she was passing.

It wasn't easy at all, but after half an hour or so, she found the door she was looking for. Hermione knew it was that one because it wouldn't open, it was closed, magically, she noticed, as her "alohamora" spell didn't work.

"_Eradico veneficus ut occulto vestri obfirmo_" She tried a stronger spell, and another one, and another, but neither would work. As her spells became stronger, her curiosity also grew. What could they be keeping in there that was so important?

"Who would have thought such a bright witch as you could get lost so easily?" There he was, standing right behind her. His voice startled her at first, but she didn't let him notice. His tone was rather ironic and harsh, but she was not intimidated.

She turned to face him. "So, you are talking to me." Hermione hoped her statement would prevent him from noticing what she had been trying to do. She had to look innocent enough.

However, he dismissed her comment plainly. "And unable to unlock a simple locking spell, too." He was mocking her instead of yelling at her, that was interesting indeed.

"I wouldn't call that a 'simple locking spell', not after five different counterspells." She was keeping her act together as she tested his temper; something was troubling him still. He seemed calmer somehow, though childish enough. He was making fun of her, apparently trying to get on her nerves, that was something both old and new.

He stepped closer to her, cautiously, but calmly enough. Only when he was barely a foot away from her, he spoke again: "What are you looking for, Granger? What do you think you will find in there?"

There was something intriguing about his attitude, once again. His voice wasn't harsh this time, it was sardonic, and yet, it had a playful quality. His eyes betrayed his voice, it was hard to describe them, they were expectant somehow.

"A way out."

"A way out from the house or from me?" Neither his tone nor his demeanor had changed one bit, Hermione didn't know what to think of that, she probably should have been scared. It wasn't a comfortable situation, and his presence was certainly unsettling, but she'd never admit to feel intimidated by him, not out loud.

"Out of this floor more precisely." It was best to ignore his implying, if he was asking for an argument, she would not give him one.

"And you thought the quickest way out was trying to unlock an apparently unlockable door?" He lowered his face close enough for her to feel his breath; he was taunting her, or at least trying to.

"It wouldn't be shocking if you knew your _kind_ ancestors sent me here." She said the words spitefully, not moving her face away from his as she spoke. Her eyes were defying, she was up for the challenge.

"Well, they'd probably be nicer to you if you didn't wear such..._muggle clothes_ in the Manor." He smiled mockingly, a smile she had not seen since Hogwarts. His tone was neither harsh nor taunting this time, but teasing.

His face was barely inches from her own; his breath was hot on her face and her nerves now racked the inside of her. What was he expecting? she wondered, a kiss or a slap?

"_Well_, they'll have to get used to it." This time, it was her who mocked him as she took one step back to get away. He just stood there, and his eyes changed to ones full of anger. "Is there anything you need?" Hermione asked before he could say anything back. His attitude was angering her, but she wouldn't let him get the best of her; the best course of action was to change the subject.

"Yeah, I'm taking you out of here." He turned his back to her and began walking away at a normal pace, expecting her to follow him. And she did.

"You came here to find me?" Hermione was curious. She thought of two possibilities: he had either been looking for her or the door's security system alerted him of an intruder.

"Not really." Draco shrugged indifferently, his anger now gone, he didn't seem to be interested in making a conversation with her.

"Why then?"

"To get away from you, actually."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks as the sentence escaped his lips; there it was again, she wasn't willing to put up with his mood swings. One minute he was interested in her, the next he was mocking her, another minute he was angry, and the other he was just plain indifferent

"What's your problem?"

Draco stopped walking and turned around to face her when he realized she wasn't following him any longer "Seriously?"

"Yes! And don't you dare say it's me, because I've done you no wrong."

"Let's get something straight here, Granger," – his voice becoming low and dangerously harsh- "It might come as a surprise to you, but I don't have to be nice to you; I tried, it didn't work." He took a step closer to her. "Now move on."

He was trying to intimidate her, she could tell. "I am not scared of you, Malfoy."

A wave of shock came upon Draco as he heard her hissing at him, he was not expecting that reaction, but he wouldn't let his guard down for long.

"Perhaps you should be." He hissed back as he slowly came closer to her, and all at once, Hermione realized she was being stalked. She tried to put some distance between them, but it was too late; soon enough, Draco had her cornered against the stone wall.

His body never touched hers, but he put his hands at either side of her shoulders, preventing her from escaping. She could feel his hot breath as he drew his face closer to her own. There was something about his eyes that made her speechless, she could hardly read them. What was it that they showed? Hermione could see the anger, but also some sort of regret, lust and...agony? Something was terribly wrong with him.

Very slowly, Hermione rose one hand to lightly frame a side of his face."What's happened to you, Draco?" Her voice was barely above a whisper as she ran her hand behind his ear and down along his cheek.

Draco's face became even more disturbed as he felt her touch and she crept closer, but he didn't move, neither did he answer, he just stood there, thoughtfully staring into her deep brown eyes. He appeared to be struggling hard to keep himself from doing something he'd regret.

Music, soft and lulling, a tinkling piano. It was a sweet and melancholic melody neither of the young adults could allow themselves to pay attention at as Hermione's face crept even closer to his. A shiver of shock run down his spine as her lips connected with his in such a tender and innocent demeanor.

While her touch was delicate, his answer was rough and needy, so she deepened the kiss, encouraging him to continue. Draco's hands were soon at either side of her waist, hers locked around his neck.

Hermione allowed herself to get lost in the kiss, nevermind her prejudices, nevermind his own, nevermind the fact that they didn't love each other. She didn't want to think right now, all she wanted was to get lost in her emotions and ease Draco's pain.

--

A/N: Well, there you go, updated in LESS than a week (and therefore, less than a month as well); I have part of the next chapter writen, but I don't think I'll post it this past (it was just a couple of days since the other one), because I don't have any ideas for the past time of the story; this might aswell be the last chapter with it.

So, this is the shortest chapter; how was it? Did you like Blaise's POV? How about the kissing scene? I'd never writen one of those before. Reviews will be most apreciated.


	9. Part II: A New View

**Part II - "From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate."**

A profound and persistent feeling of sadness and distress overcame her as she watched him walking away from her

A profound and persistent feeling of sadness and distress overcame her as she watched him walking away from her. It was something she had been trying really hard to avoid, but there it was, nudging her as it spread from her chest to all of her body: depression.

She struggled against it, telling herself she wouldn't get depressed over Draco Malfoy, it was just not worth it. She knew that much, but depression isn't that easy to handle. So she let herself slowly slide to the floor, drew her knees to her chest, her arms around them, her face buried against her legs.

Hermione sobbed quietly as angst overcame her. What had she done? Why had she kissed him? And why was she upset that he had backed away?

It came as a surprise for both of them, but it had been Draco who had pulled away, just as roughly as he had responded to her kiss. One minute they were entwined in passion, and the next, Hermione was facing his back.

Not that she had planned to kiss him, it was a sudden impulse; it felt almost right at the moment. There had been something about the depth in his eyes, something about his lips that made her stay put and press her lips to kiss.

She didn't know how long it had lasted, but even in all of her confusion she had enjoyed it; and it had appeared he had as well... until he pulled away.

He was reluctant at first, she had noticed, but he did it anyway, roughly, spitefully. And when he did, Hermione opened her eyes, thinking he just wanted to regain his breath, for she needed it as well. His breathing was hard, he was almost panting, his eyes were tightly shut. Only when she lifted a hand to touch his face he opened them... he looked so troubled, so upset.

Next thing she knew, he was walking away. One thing she would not have expected of their little episode was rejection; but that was exactly what had happened. And it hurt so badly.

As she wondered why he had reacted that way, reality hit her like a sack of bricks and she realized what had happened: she had kissed him, and it had been she who started it. She didn't even like him, why had she done it? What was wrong with her? He had her cornered against the wall, probably restraining himself from hurting her, and she had longed for his lips. It didn't make any sense.

And that wasn't even the worst part of it all. What troubled her the most was the fact that he had rejected her, that was just wrong... not the fact that he had rejected her, but the fact that his rejection bothered her so much. What was it? It was plain logical, had he been the one to kiss her, she would have been the one to walk away in anger.

Wasn't that what he wanted though? She couldn't tell just how many times he had attempted to kiss her with no success. What had she done wrong? Were his prior words true and he couldn't stand her at all? Hermione simply couldn't understand him anymore.

It was a long time until Hermione's tears fell no more, and even longer when she gasped loudly for air and decided to stand up. Determined to leave, she walked to an opened window and summoned one of Draco's brooms with an "_accio"_ spell.

She mounted it and flew away, leaving most of her belongings behind. Hermione flew past the Manor's magical security barrier and then apparated to Grimmauld place; she needed her friends.

It was Ron who greeted her at the door, Hermione was hugging him fiercely before he could mutter a simple "hello". He patted her back as he wrapped her in a warm embrace and asked: "What has he done now?"

Hermione wished he had, as usual, made the wrong assumption, but no, he was right this time. Not that she could tell him, for it would only mean more trouble. If Ron ever found out what happened, he would go straight to Malfoy Manor and start a fight.

"I've missed you." She whispered softly, evading the subject, as he reached out to stroke her hair. A look of confusion was all over his face, but he said nothing, he only stared worriedly into her eyes.

She felt awfully comfortable in his embrace, more than she should have. It brought her memories of better times, times when they were together, when her parents were alive, when she would have never dreamed Draco Malfoy would become a significant part of her life.

Hermione relished the feel of his body against hers, it almost made her forget her anguish, her despair. It just felt so right, and yet so wrong, to be surrounded by his strong arms, to be gazed at by his concerned blue eyes, to feel secure and loved in his presence.

Another wave of depression took over her as she realized what she was doing; she would only hurt Ron if she allowed herself to think of him in that way; so she averted her eyes from his and detached herself from his arms.

"I'm sorry, Ron; I shouldn't have said that." She shook her head, angry with herself, and walked past him into the house.

"It's okay...I've—"

"Don't even say it."

Ron said no more as he closed the door behind him and followed her inside the house. Hermione made herself comfortable sitting on one large sofa in the living room. "Where's Harry?" She asked, still averting Ron's gaze.

"He's out. Went on a date with Ginny." He made a face as he said that, it would appear he wasn't entirely happy with their relationship.

"It's been ages since I last saw her." Making an effort to tun her depression out, Hermione slowly looked up to his face as she took the chance to change the subject. It was hard, but if she didn't look at him, he'd figure her problem was worse than he already thought.

"Well, you know how she is..." She barely noticed him sitting beside her on the same sofa.

Hermione nodded numbly, perhaps it hadn't been the best subject to approach. Ginny Weasley wasn't on speaking terms with Hermione ever since news about her engagement to Draco had spread. Of course, everyone else, including Ginny, thought their engagement and subsequent marriage was completely legitimate. Only their families and Hermione's two best friends knew better. The less people knew, the safer for their families.

"Do you think she'll come around one day?" Hermione wondered, but wasn't particularly interested, she used to get along well with Ginny, but their friendship hadn't been the strongest.

"Who knows." Ron was uncomfortable, she knew that the last person he wanted to talk about right now was about his sister. He surely wanted to know what happened to her, what she meant by saying she had missed him. And he'd tempt her to do things that weren't convenient for neither of them.

"What will you do, Hermione?"

"I think I'll move to my grandparents' house in Italy, my house is on quarantine –long story- and I don't think it would be convenient to move into my mother's."

"You know you—"

"Yes, I know, Ron. And I thank you for that, but that's not a possibility."

"Why not? Gee, Hermione. What has changed so much about us that you can't even stay here for a couple of days?"

"It's not about... our friendship. It's about me, Ron. It's not that I don't love both Harry and you; it's that my life has turned so much I can hardly cope with it all. If I was to stay here, my mother--whom you can't even look at the face--and my brother-–whom you can't stand--would come and visit, and Draco might as well come some day to try and persuade me to go back to his place. It would only lead to trouble."

"I can stand your brother."

"Last time he came here you two were at each other's throats; and he had only come to take me home! It wasn't like he had been staying for hours and ruined your carpet!"

"He mocked me!"

"I don't care, Ron. My point is neither you nor Harry can cope with my family, which is understandable, I had a hard time adjusting to them, too; but they are my family! I can't choose between you and them."

"But-"

"I'll go to Italy; I don't think my grandparents will mind. I'll come and visit every now and then."

"Why have you got to go that far? What's wrong with your mother's place?"

"Psychological damage; mother would try and persuade me every single day to go back to Malfoy. Besides, the Malfoys have free access to our Manor. My grandparents, on the other side, aren't that fond of them."

"I like your grandparents."

"I know." Hermione chuckled, a brief glimpse of a smile. Ron always had the ability to make her smile.

All of the sudden, she realized just how near she was to Ron. Any other time she wouldn't have minded, but right at that moment she longed for the comfort of his arms. It was selfish though, and she knew that; because right now, had it been Harry sitting next to her, she would want the same thing: a friend to hug. The matter was that hugging Ron could lead to other feelings, from both sides.

Even though they had broken up twice, in other circumstances, they would have surely gotten back together; because that's the way they were, they'd get mad at each other over something, make a big deal out of it, break up, decide they are better as friends, and a couple of months later they'd be back together.

Although she wondered if it hadn't been for the best to be over with him for good this time, the real obstacle for which they hadn't gotten back together after their third breaking up was stuck on her left hand.

Her feelings only lead her to feel guilt, and guilt lead her to depression. She was already depressed, so this would only be a plus. And Ron didn't have to find out, it would only do him worse.

"What now?" His question came in handy since it stopped her train of thought; she didn't need him to see her getting worse by the minute.

"I think I'll get going, Ron. Tell Harry I came by."

She walked to the fireplace, wondering how her grandparents would take her visit. They were very fond of her, as she was of them, Hermione only hoped they wouldn't mind having her staying over for a month, or even more. The health and security squad wasn't entirely sure how long it would take for her parents' house to be fine again.

"You'll use the floo powder? What about your broom?"

"Yes, there's no way I am flying all the way to Italy. Keep the broom, it's Malfoy's anyway," Hermione shrugged indifferently. She couldn't care less if it was his favorite broom right now.

"I don't care if it's a Firebolt 2001; I am not using anything that belongs to _him_."

"Donate it then...sell it, burn it, I don't care."

She smiled sadly and waved her hand at him as she stepped into the fireplace and said the address of her Granparents' Manor, floo powder in hand.

All of her thoughts were about him as she felt the speed and the numbness that accompanied her through the journey.

--

A/N: And so we start Part II of the story; no more past time tales for now. The chapters will be shorter since we will only see the present; if you have any questions or doubts that were not answered, post them with your reviews and they'll probably appear in following chapters.

Thoughts? Feelings? Criticism?


	10. Map of the Problematique

"What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy?!" The sentence was almost the same Hermione had repeated time and time again before their last episode, only this time it was coming from her brother, Blaise.

Though his voice was deeper and his choice of words harsher, Draco was surprised to see the exact same spiteful expression on Blaise that Hermione wore when she was pissed. How come he had never noticed before?

"What do you mean?" He asked dismissively, he was not looking forward to the not so calm "chat" Blaise was after. But it sure looked like Blaise was eager for a fight.

"My sister has run away to Italy!"

So Blaise was in his big brother mode, Draco thought as he shrugged. Well, it was to be expected of him, although Blaise usually tried to remain neutral. "She has the right to run away to wherever she wants to. I thought you'd be the first to support her."

"Yes! But you are not supposed to make her run away you idiot!"

"What makes you think I did it?"

"Are you kidding me?"

Blaise looked dangerous enough, Draco considered, and even though they were equal matches in any kind of fight, he was not up to it right now. "I didn't...tell her to leave. In fact, I didn't tell her anything."

"Why did she go crying to my grandparents then?" he practically roared.

"Why don't you ask her? It's been two days, she can't be still crying, can she?"

Right after finishing that sentence, Draco felt Blaise's fist collide with the left side of his face. He had seen it coming, of course, but he had no strength left to defend himself. Draco only reached out for his spinning head, shutting his eyes tightly.

"You don't get to mock her."

He heard Blaise walking away, knowing it would be a while before he saw him again.

_Moments passed and Draco __opened his eyes and looked down at his reflection_ in the cold, rippling water of the pool. He studied himself carefully: there were dark marks beneath his eyes, which appeared to be darker than their usual bright grey; his face was contorted into a sneer he couldn't get rid of, he had a bite mark on his lower lip he had caused himself, and, of course, the bruise Blaise's fist had left on his temple.

The day was bright, the flowers were blooming, and the temperature was nice. Everything seemed to be right with the outside world on such a lovely day; but not for him. A couple of days ago Hermione had left him, again, and this time though he accepted the blame for it, he couldn't care less about it. He knew he'd regret it later, when his pain decreased.

This time his pain had little to do with her, and yet, she could be blamed for it. And he struggled with whether or not to blame her.

Draco could see the face of his father in his own reflection, it didn't take much to see they shared most features. No one would have doubted he was his father's son. Not too long ago, everyone would have only looked up to him for it in his social circle. It wasn't the same now, mostly the exact opposite. Not that it mattered much to him nowadays.

Attempting to study would have been futile, he knew his mind would drift off before he started anything. Drift off to better times of his life, when his father was alive. He hadn't had the chance to deal much with his death, which only would make it worse once he did. It was hard to digest, but it had happened, his father had died...and what for? Draco had always thought he was prepared to face his father's death, since he had been gambling with his life for so long. Especially during the war, his closeness to the dark side would hardly spare his life, even if they had won.

The sun was burning his skin, but he was too tired to move, drained of energy, too tired to do anything but stare at his cursed reflection on the water.

Hermione didn't have the fault for his pain, not directly at least. She hadn't wished for his father's death–or so he hoped--but she could have prevented it. If only she had agreed to the contract sooner...his father would be pestering him about his relationship with her right now instead of lying motionless six feet underground.

The one-month anniversary of his father's death was approaching. It wasn't like he hadn't been upset about his death before, but he busied himself thinking about other things and certain potions helped his cause. But now his stress relievers had been taken away since the latest incident he had caused a week ago.

He chuckled silently to himself. Draco could almost feel his father's hand colliding with his head for his stupidity: he had walked away from his wife when she had finally kissed him. His ears would hurt for hours after listening to his father's scolding him until dawn. And he would be forced to go back to her and beg for forgiveness... even though Malfoys didn't beg.

It seemed everything he did only turned out wrong. His first attempt at being nice with Hermione had resulted in a fight, and not any fight –his body hurt for days. His first attempt to kiss her had resulted in a slap, his courting had resulted in his father's death. After they were finally married, his patience lasted only a couple of days. It wasn't hard for him to be nice; what was hard was being nice towards someone who didn't like you at all and wouldn't give you a break.

It would be so much easier if his parents would have bethroted him to some other girl, a less troubled girl, a fine pureblooded witch, raised as one, taught as one. One who wouldn't have needed three deaths to realize the dimension of what was laid upon her shoulders. Hopefully it would have been someone less stubborn, know-it-all, smartass, good-willed, and sickeningly kind-hearted. Someone who wasn't friends with Harry Potter, nor mates with the idiotic Ronald Weasley and the other red-haired worthless peons. Someone who would admire him, respect him, look up to him, some who could love him–or grow to love him--for what he is, for who he is... Life, however, wouldn't be that kind to him.

He averted his gaze from his reflection and sighed sadly as he walked away, meandering aimlessly through the gardens of his family Manor. His skin had a pinkish tone and it itched, the result of his long and unprotected exposure to the sun, but he couldn't spare a minute of his time with self pity, his father would never approve of that.

Two weeks passed by and his pain slowly decreased, Draco believed it would eventually turn into just a memory. As days passed by, he found himself thinking less and less about Hermione; eventually, the only time he thought about being married – and married to her nonetheless — was when his mother would occasionally give him news about her. He couldn't tell his mother he wasn't interested in knowing Granger had applied for college in Italy, that she was still living with her grandparents in their Manor, that she had been spotted in Hogsmeade with Potter and Weasley and Witch Weekly had written a disturbing article about it, or that she was visiting her family in the country.

Not too long ago he had begun to understand Hermione and even developed a slight fascination towards her, but now, perhaps subconsciously, Draco was gradually becoming indifferent, slowly hardening his heart against her for good.

His mother understood how he felt, she had gone through something similar in the beginning of her marriage, and right now was grieving Lucius's death like Draco. So, she wasn't giving him a hard time about his relationship with his wife, she was just reminding him he was married, and sometime further in the future she'd start talking him into going to her in an effort to make things work. She wasn't willing to allow him to be the last Malfoy on earth. Though he may have been content with giving up the fight, she wouldn't allow it. His father, and all of his ancestors, would never forgive him, but from his perspective, he could be damned forever and not really care.

His train of thought lead him to something he had been wondering for months now: Did it really matter if they wouldn't ever love each other? He had lived without that kind of love for long, in fact, he had never been in love, perhaps only slightly infatuated with one girl or another, but he hadn't felt _real_ love. That feeling, he assumed, makes one want to be with the other the whole time, the feeling of having the other half...the agony of needing that significant other, because if you don't have her with you, you feel incomplete, that something's missing. And, of course, knowing you want to be with that person forever.

Draco knew very well that he could live without her, or anyone else for that matter. So, why bother? Many things had been denied to him in his life, that kind of love would only be another one; and it couldn't hurt, he reasoned, because he had never known it.

Four months passed by and Draco was used to listening to his mother's news about Hermione every now and then. He paid her the same attention as if she was talking about the weather. He could hear it, he could feel it, he could live with it, and he just didn't really care. Besides, he had better things to think about. He was really busy with his own studies, for he was at University as well. Besides that, he had to help his mother run their company, The Malfoy Corporation. Draco was so busy with work he wouldn't have had the time to think about his lack of love life (which he had already denied himself for good).

His life was running rather smoothly so far. He had found out he was really good at blocking his bad thoughts; he had come to a semi-healthy point in accepting his father's death. He was getting much better at dealing with his temper, no need for pretending; he was doing well in school, and he had forbid himself to long after a woman's affection.

It was on a cold October afternoon that he realized there was something he had not seen coming: Hermione hadn't given up on love.

Pain. Electrifying jolts of pure pain started on his left hand, right there on his ring finger, where the dreaded gold band there was a burning sensation. It was simply warm at first, he found it amusing, but didn't think of it twice. Soon enough, however, the bloody ring was literally burning his skin.

The excruciating pain shot through his skin as it spread all over his left hand, he could feel it even in his bones. It was torture, and there was nothing he could do about it. He screamed in agonizing pain as he tried to take it off, which only made it worse, if that was even possible.

Knowing the ring wouldn't come off–but hurting his other hand as he tried to take it off anyway--he ran to the gardens outside, panting and struck by the surge of pain, still crying in agony. His screams swiftly turned into whimpers as he stuck his hand in the relieving coldness of the snow.

Once he managed to think clearly again, he realized the ring wasn't burning any longer His hand, luckily enough, was slowly turning numb, blissfully numb. He sighed in relief as he told an elf to call his mother.

It wasn't long until she arrived, but long enough for him not to feel his hands. He barely noticed the blue tone of his skin as he showed his mother the source of the problem.

"What does this mean, mother?" pleaded Draco, his voice as innocent as when he was a young child changed drastically to one of a furious grown up when his mother answered, "It means she's tried to cheat on you."

--

A/N: So, it's finnally up! Truth is I've had it for over a week, but I rewrote it like 4 or 5 times. I am not entirely happy with this chapter, but it was a necessary bridge to the upcoming chapter 11, which I hope will be much better.

Reviews are highly appreciated, as usual. :)


	11. Immersion

_A/N: I recomend the song "Immersion" by "Persephone" for this chapter, I think it's very accurate for the first half. _

--

A lot can happen in four months. Given the adequate circumstances, things one has been avoiding for a long time might end up hitting you straight on the face. Hermione had seen it coming a long time ago, she knew it would happen, she could only hope it wouldn't.

In four months without Draco and only seeing her mother on weekends, she had more than enough time for her friends, time she hadn't had before. Hermione had been overly busy since she found out about her engagement to Draco Malfoy, studying twice as hard to find a way out.

It was comforting to get to spend time with Harry and Ron without Malfoy watching her every move, controlling and reminding her she was committed to him. Not seeing him right after being with her friends was extremely relaxing; she realized then just how stressful it had been for her to have him around.

Getting into University took a great amount of her time too; however, she found out it was less stressful than having to deal with Draco. So, it didn't make her feel guilty for spending time with the boys.

Staying with her grandparents had turned out even more comfortable than she thought. Truth is, not only did her grandparents live in their Manor in the Sabine Hills (which was as big as Malfoy Manor, if not larger), but also her uncle Emericus Zabini (her late father's brother), his wife Katherina, and their children Angela, Illan and Marcus.

The Manor in Sabine Hills was big enough to host them all and they could live comfortably enough without having to see each other faces in days if they wanted to; unlike with the Malfoys, the Zabinis did have a use for their many rooms. The house didn't have as many rooms, but most of them were much bigger –which was saying something.

Hermione got along very well with almost all of her relatives, especially with her cousins Illan and Marcus, who were 20 and 24 years old respectively. Both boys were very fond of her, but not Angela. She was a 15-year-old teen and had apparently grown rather jealous of her; she wasn't entirely sure why, though.

Studying law at an Italian University was an entirely new experience for her. It was a rather challenging one considering her Italian was far from perfect, but given her family circle, she was learning pretty fast. Her brother had been of great help, instructing her since she started living with him.

Blaise, of course, had tried really hard to get her to go back to England. Not back to Draco (he didn't know what had happened between them, but he was sure he was a lost cause), but back to his own place. It was very hard to convince him she was better staying in Italy, but he grew used to the idea; after all, he enjoyed spending time with their relatives as well.

Hermione was happy to be friends with the boys just like they used to be before the unfortunate events in her life. Both boys would visit her two or three times a week, sometimes they even stayed over two days in a row (even though Hermione didn't approve of it because they had to study as much as she did), avoiding the days she had to visit her mother or whenever Blaise would come by. Everything was almost perfect.

Almost. Only two months after having gotten used to her new home, she realized something was missing in her life. It wasn't like she wasn't happy –she was happier than she had been in a long time-, nothing could really bother her lately, not even her little cousin's sardonic comments affected her.

Hermione just felt empty somehow, she wasn't sure if it was the first time she felt it. All throughout her life her mind had been occupied with so much. It only took her a couple of days to realize what her problem was: despite the constant company she had all around, she felt lonely. It was funny how one could feel lonely being surrounded by so many people who were constantly demanding her attention –if it wasn't her brother who wanted to spend the afternoon with her, it was her friends; if she didn't have an appointment to lunch with her mother, her cousins would take her out to see the city and help her improve the language.

She was well aware where her new feeling would lead her, or at least, to whom. It was wrong, it would only be for the worse, she told herself over and over again. But she could hardly help it.

As days passed by, she couldn't help needing Ron more than ever. She missed him, even when they were together she missed him. Not as a friend, obviously, she came to admit she missed his embraces, staying close together on a couch on a cold winter afternoon, feeling his body against hers, having him whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure, however, whether she missed Ron or love in general. Her only experience at a "mature" romantic relationship had been with him after all, so it could be confusing. However, she was sure of one thing: neither of them had completely gotten over each other. Especially Ron, she could see it in his eyes. Another related issue was the fact that she didn't want him to get over her. This fact made her feel horribly guilty, of course. But she had a new strategy: she refused to think about it...much.

As a matter of fact, she had been repressing her feelings towards him for more than half a year; in such a length of time, she had grown used to being just friends with him, it was good for them, it worked. They were happy being just friends, why change that? She didn't want it to change, rationally speaking; but it's usually the heart instead of the mind that has the stronger voice over such kind of matters.

Even though her heart told her that she didn't want to start something again that would end up hurting Ron, she couldn't help but feeling attracted towards him. It was hard to explain how the line between friendship and romance was so easily crossed between both of them; but there was something about Ron that was very special to her, something no one else had, no one. Ron was the sweetest boy she had ever met, that was probably what appealed to her the most, besides, he was so good hearted, noble, kind; he could even be empathic if he wanted to. Their relationship was very special to her, it wasn't something to be taken lightly, that's why they had always remained as friends despite their strong arguments and break ups.

No. Her relationship with Ron was not something to be taken lightly. That's the reason it took her another couple of months to get to a point where she couldn't help it any longer

October was ending. An ice-cold wind was blowing, reminding the people from the small town of Montopolis winter was approaching. Hermione was enjoying a tactful chess game with none other than one of her best friends, Ronald Weasley.

He had always been better at it than her, surprisingly enough; Hermione had always wondered how he could concentrate so much in fixing a strategy for a game of chess and practically refuse to take the time of a day to focus on his studies. Today, however, Hermione was puting up a good fight.

Harry had left earlier, he had an appointment (date with Ginny); none of her relatives were in the living room she was using at the moment, none but Angela. Her cousin Illan had only passed by once to check on her, not that he had anything to worry about, that's just how he was; Illan was very protective and caring of her, whilst Marcus was much more respectful of her privacy, although he was also very caring. Little cousin Angela was another story.

Angela had made sure to spend the whole afternoon next to Harry, the girl was so clearly infatuated with him she didn't even bother pretending. Hermione felt sorry for him, he could hardly move without her moving along with him. Such a childish girl.

She had stayed for a while after Harry left, only to complain about his absence and how he didn't seem to pay her any attention.

"He has a girlfriend, Angela." Hermione, as nicely as she could, tried to get her to see reason. It was of no use.

"So? You have a husband and you don't seem very committed to him." If there was one thing Angela didn't mind doing, it was getting on her nerves. She had been the only person of her family (except for her mother) to constantly remind her of Draco as if it wasn't a taboo subject.

Ron blushed at her statement, he was about to say something but Hermione put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from doing it, as she breathed in and out in an attempt to remain calm. She couldn't reprimand her cousin. For one thing, they weren't that close, she had no power over despite the 4 year age difference, and she couldn't just scold her in her own house.

"My _husband" _-she said the word as if it was something dirty- "is an entirely different situation."

"I think I love him." Her eyes were dreamy when she spoke about him, her voice full of hope as she intentionally ignored Hermione's remarks.

"For Merlin's sake, Angela, you don't love him! You barely know him!"

Angela shrugged, dismissing her sentence with the wave of a hand. "It was love at the first sight."

"You didn't look at him twice until you heard his name!"

Ron was having a really hard time suppressing his laughter, whilst Hermione dealing with her temper.

"I was shy."

"Your excuses are utterly lame, Angela."

"So are yours." She barked before storming out of the room. The girl sure had a little temper. Hermione had grown used to her constant bickering and tantrums, she was keen to making scenes whenever she got a chance –and a public.

"She'll make a hell of an actress one day."

"_Hell_ is the keyword." Nodded Hermione.

They continued their game with no need of words, they were so comfortable with each other's presence, it was natural to them. They had spent afternoons like these lots of times when they were together: just the two of them, having a good time on a cold afternoon. The scenery was completely different, they would usually play at the Burrow, but the feeling were the same. Unfortunately.

It was silly, really, what happened... Ron moved his Queen to, unexpectedly (for Hermione), eat one of her Knights. In doing so, he slightly brushed one of her fingers, since she had regretted moving her Knight to that position and attempted to prevent him from taking it. Everything happened very fast.

Both of them looked up to meet each other's eyes at the touch; there was nothing unusual about the scene: they were two friends, friendly playing a game of chess, as they had done time and time again for weeks in the very same place. The only difference was that they were completely alone now.

The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle whispers of the blowing wind, and soon enough, when their eyes met, the ragged beating of their hearts.

Hermione's heart was in her throat, not because she felt angst, she couldn't spare a second of her time to think about that right now; she only felt anxious. Next thing she knew, the pieces of the game were scattered all over the floor, Ron was kissing her, and she was kissing him back fiercely as she clung to his shoulders.

He wrapped one hand into her thick, brown hair, the other slowly massaging her back, while she held onto his face with both hands. They barely had time to experience the hunger and intensity they had shared almost a year ago.

As soon as their lips had met, there wasn't one part of Hermione telling her to push him off, to stop the nonsense of it all. So, it was her wedding ring that made her.

The burning sensation was so intense their kiss didn't last more than 10 seconds; soon enough, both of them had to pull apart, screaming in agony. Hermione because her ring was hurting her, Ron because Hermione had placed her hands at each side of his face.

As soon as they parted, the ring stopped burning, but having a hot ring that couldn't be taken off over –and consequently constantly in contact with the skin- burn wounds didn't help the cause at all. The contact made her keep screaming in pain despite it no longer burned.

As she tried to take it off, she only deepened her wounds.

--

A/N: So, how did you like that? I am eager to know. Please do leave a review. :)

I am so sorry for the long wait, I hope to have the following chapters updated sooner this time. I'm currently working on chapter 14, we'll have to see how things take from there.

PS: Thank you so much to everyone who reviews, you guys inspire me to write more!


	12. Gotta be Kidding

Blinded with rage, Draco went straight to Italy. He couldn't use the floo network to get to Hermione's grandparents' house because he somehow was banned from the entire town of Montopoli di Sabina, and not only the town, but the whole province of Reiti. The Zabinis were one influential family.

This fact only enraged him more; the nerve of her! He had to floo to Rome--the only city close enough and big enough to find posibilities to get there--and then fly to Montopoli, which wasn't a piece of cake either, considering he had not taken a broom with him (his favorite one had mysteriously disappeared) and he had to buy another one there. The issue was he had not taken enough money to buy the fastest one and the bloody banks wouldn't lend him any money, not even when he showed his credentials...in fact, that probably made it worse.

So, he had to put up with a cheap and lousy one. It took him a whole bloody hour to make 25 miles!

When he got there, he realized he didn't know the address of the Zabini Residence; and he couldn't go back and ask Blaise–with whom he wasn't in speaking terms with--or his mother; therefore, he was in a strange city with no idea where to go to, he didn't even know how to find the wizarding part of the town. He seriously couldn't believe his luck.

Italy, he noticed, was was rather different from the United Kingdom. Wizards and witches were not easily distinguished from the muggles, for they wore the same kind of outfits. It probably was a matter of the weather, Draco thought, since Italy was very warm in comparison to the UK. Muggles' light clothes were more comfortable than the cloaks and traditional robes worn on the North of Europe and the Islands. That was yet another problem for him: he was wearing wizard robes, muggles would look at him funny. It was winter, though, perhaps he wouldn't draw too much attention; he could only hope.

Flying above the city, he realized just how small it was. There couldn't be more than three thousand inhabitants. If the Zabinis were as influential as they had demonstrated to him, everyone in town had to know them, even if they were muggles. Italians were known for being very friendly, he knew the wizarding population of Italy was used to living in harmony with the muggles–of course the muggles had no idea about the real nature of some of their neighbors.

The town was rather different from what he knew of Rome, it lacked its classical architecture in most houses. There was snow all over the sidewalks, frozen trees all around. The houses were pretty humble, they had a very old style.

Draco didn't intend on strolling around the town, however, he had to find the bloody

Manor. He guessed there had to be some sort of a rich wizarding residential neighborhood, as in his own hometown. Either way he wouldn't be able to find it on his own; he wouldn't just have the luck to see Hermione standing on the front door.

The few people walking across the streets, he noticed, were very aware of him, looking carefully at him. Small town, they probably don't like strangers, he thought.

He approached one middle aged woman dressed in wide winter clothes.

"_Parli inglese?" _

Regarding Italian, Draco was out of practice, therefore, he tried to find someone who could speak English. He had studied the language for 3 years, in hopes to impress and honour his wife's Italian family. When he was 13 he started realizing it was probably a lost cause.

The woman stared at him skeptically, and quickly said "No" as she walked hurriedly away. _'How rude'_ Draco thought, raising an eyebrow.

The woman in fact turned out to be the most polite person he met there; the following six people he tried to talk to simply ignored him as they walked away. It made his blood boil, he was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake! Not that the bunch of muggles would know, but anyway, how they disgusted him!

He was about to do something drastic when he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Malfoy?" Surprised and glad he turned around to see the face of one Blaise Zabini.

"Zabini!"--suddenly happy and remarkably desperate, he exclaimed--"You've got to take me to her!"

Blaise indeed looked like any muggle walking around, he wasn't wearing the usual robes he shows in the UK. He was carrying a bag, looking wary as he said: "Now, why would I do that?"–he arched an eyebrow and added--"Have you looked yourself in a mirror?"

"What?!" He asked, caught off guard with that last statement.

"You look like hell."

"I've been through it." Replied Draco as he gritted his teeth, trying to and successfully suppressing his anger. "I used to think it was the French who enjoyed themselves ignoring hopeless foreigners; but your people aren't any better."

Blaise, instead of snorting and threating him for the offensive comment, half smirked at him and chuckled lightly. "So it's you I've been hearing rumors about. _You are hopeless_,_ Malfoy_. People here seem to think you are a vampire. They fear you."

"A vampire?" Wide eyed, Draco looked over his shoulder to see some individuals congregating just a block away, as he stared at them, they quickly averted their gazes and kept speaking in hushed voices. '_How do they know about vampires?'_

"You look gaunt, too pale, you are dressed in a cloak that looks awfully Romanian to them, you've got a mess for a hair...Did you come here flying?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. From Rome." Reminded of the last series of unfortunate events, Draco clenched his fists and, if possible, scared the inhabitants of the town even more looking angrier than before.

"Rome, huh?" –Blaise asked dismissively- "We should have taken more precautions." He added mostly for himself.

"How come, Zabini? Am I supposed to be the bad guy here? I didn't do this." – he showed him his bandaged left hand, which was so hurt he couldn't even move it despite all the ointments and potions his mother had provided him with. The right hand only had superficial burn marks that didn't ache that much now.

"For one thing, you've accomplished to get here in a record time despite all of the obstacles we put. We didn't expect you to get here so soon, and without telling beforehand. It's been...what? 5 hours? She's not ready to see you, and even if she were, you are not seeing her until you've calmed down."

"I've been through hell and you—wait-" he paused a second just realizing something. "5 hours? What do you know?!"

"Huh?" Blaise, realizing his mistake, tried and put on a clueless facade to confront him. "What do you mean?"

"What. Did. She. Do; Zabini?" Draco pronounced every word with a remarkably dangerous tone of voice as he slowly stepped closer to him; but Blaise wasn't to be intimidated by Draco.

"Nothing she should be ashamed of, Malfoy. And you don't get to see her, like it or not. She's had enough for today."

Right at that moment, Blaise chose to disapparate; what he didn't expect was Draco putting a hand on his shoulder just in time to disapparate along with him. As both boys spun through the magical path, Draco grabbed Blaise's arm fiercely in order not to end up just anywhere on the map.

They appeared just some feet away from the front of the enormous gates of a huge Renaissance-like three-story Manor, surrounded by huge gardens of trees and guarded by walls with railings. The closest houses were far apart, since all had huge gardens separating them all. It was the second time in the day Draco felt lucky.

Blaise, however, was swearing out loud. He pushed him aside and hurried to the gate's entrance to meet up with two other men standing in front of the gate, who were staring menacingly at Draco. One had the same type of brown curly hair Hermione had, and the very same eyes, he almost looked like a masculine version of her, much taller and with a slight beard. The other one was just as tall, but he was shaved, had light green eyes and straight dark brown hair. They looked familiar for Draco, '_Must have seen them at the wedding.'_ He thought.

Blaise was speaking in Italian, too quick for Draco to catch a word; he could catch, however, the boys' glares growing angrier as Blaise spoke. When he was apparently finished explaining the situation, he turned around to look at him in the face again, standing next to one of his–Draco presumed--relatives.

"You are not allowed in here." The tallest one threateningly stated with a prominent Italian accent.

"I'm not leaving." He did his best to remain calm, he was no match for three other wizards. "I just want a word with Blaise's sister; I don't care if it's in the house or outside here." Recklessly, he took a step toward them. Just as fast, Blaise did as well, whilst he prevented his cousin from moving along with a hand.

"We can't let you in, Malfoy. Don't push it. We are not saying you won't ever get to talk to her again-" –one of his relatives snorted while the other one remained dangerously calm- "- just not right now. Come back in a couple of days and I'll see if I can convince her to talk to you."

'_Curious'_-thought Draco- '_Blaise is being neutral again after so long. 'Might as well use this to my advantage.'_

"I could consider it if I knew exactly what happened."

Blaise and his relatives remained silent and thoughtful for a moment, until the one who looked calm stated something that sounded like: "_Egli non è una sfida per noi."_

'_He's no match for us.' _Draco translated in his head and gritted his teeth, it was true, not because he was poorly skilled, but because numbers weren't on his side. They were not going to tell him what he wanted to know, and they were not going to allow him to see Hermione. He comprehended the reason for the last one, truth is he would only yell at her if he'd see her; but why not tell him what had happened? What had she done? His blood boiled with rage as he imagined the possibilities; even if they didn't love each other, she had no right to cheat on him. If she didn't want to be with him, she wouldn't be with anybody else.

"It's not our place to talk about it; it's something between her and you." The other one said, dismissing the other's comment.

"Just tell me, Blaise!" he spit the words out one by one, articulating his name with special distaste.

It was to no use, all of them appeared to act as the girl's bloody bodyguards and confidants. What was about her that made so many act that way? She was utterly annoying! Besides, being so confident, prideful and know it all, it seemed oddly inaccurate that she couldn't defend herself alone. Normally, she wouldn't allow others to stand up for her when she could do it on her own. Therefore–Draco realized--if she wasn't right there at the moment to confront him, she had to be either emotionally devastated or more injured than he was.

"Is she injured?"

"Probably as much as you." Despair was it then. Well, he didn't care, she deserved despair. Had she been gravely injured, then he would have considered not giving her a piece of his mind until she got better.

"All right then, I won't try and enter the property today," he showed them one of his usual crooked smiles.

"What are you up to Malfoy?" Blaise asked warily.

"That's not your place to know, Zabini." Then he turned around and calmly walked away through the snow camp that the street was, knowing he would either be followed or watched for a while, until they considered it was of no danger to leave him alone in the town.

Blaise knew one thing for sure, Draco wasn't up to any good.

--

A/N: How did you like that?

I'm so glad about the response last chapter had I'm updating earlier. I loved your reviews, keep them coming!

PS: About the Italian, I hope some Italian will tell me if I've commited a mistake so I can mend it. :)


	13. Management

Draco Malfoy had three things in mind after walking away from the Zabini Manor of Montopoli: first of all, give a piece of his mind to his wife; secondly, find out whom Hermione was with as he would have to torture him to the point of either death or insanity; and thirdly, buy an appropriate property around the area to begin making plans.

He chose to focus on the third issue at hand, it was required in order to accomplish his other two goals. Anger was a good thing if he could manage it to work harder and get what he wanted faster.

In order to get the property he wanted, he'd first needed to know what was he dealing with, if there were wizards living in the Manor he wanted, it would be harder, if they were muggles instead... it would be much cheaper.

The place that had caught his eye was right in front of Hermione's family Manor, it was simply perfect. There was no way she could avoid him for long if he lived right accross the street. He didn't mind much about the house itself, the position was what made it perfect, even if it was smaller than what he was used to. It would be very convenient to have it over the long-term, he was married to her for forever after all. Draco knew this probably wouldn't be the last time Hermione chose to recluse herself in Italy.

He had made up his mind, he wasn't going to try and be gentle with her anymore, it didn't work. And he couldn't just allow her be anywhere and do everything she wanted to, not if the consequences turned against him–physically hurt and dishonoured as he was. He wasn't entirely sure how he would do it, but this time he would make sure Hermione would be by his side, even if they couldn't stand each other. She wasn't going to disgrace him again.

The Manor was in an exclusive neighboorhood on the outskirts of the town, but since it was a little place, it really wasn't too far away from downtown, the place he had landed in. He had left his broom in an alley he found landed in after apparating. Draco found himself pretty calm while he traveled to Rome, despite the fact he was flying on a lousy broom on a cold night; his mind was quickly mastering a plan.

"He was here yesterday, you know," said Carmella Zabini as she caressed Hermione's head. Hermione was lying on her bed, her face buried on her pillow, she didn't feel like seeing anyone, but her grandmother's presence conforted her.

"I guess the ring alerted him. I didn't think of that..." Hermione replied sadly, and added as an afterthought: _"...not that I was thinking at the moment."_

"It didn't only alert him, the boys told me he had his left hand all bandaged up. Just as you do."

"...that's just great, not only I hurt Ron and myself, but Draco as well."

"Don't punish yourself for it, dear, you meant no wrong."

She turned around and sat on her bed to look at Carmella in the face, she was exasperated as she spoke: "And yet I caused it. Even if this hadn't happened...it would have been wrong anyways." And resignedly, she uttered at last, "I can't play with Ron's feelings that way."

"All you are guilty of is feeling, dear. What happened would have happened sooner or later anyways since you still have feelings for him."

"I wish I didn't." She shook her head slowly, her voice full of regret.

"And I wish you could have them and live with them naturally."

Hermione sighed and averted her gaze from her grandmother's face to look at the door instead, she could hear steps outside, and only a moment later Blaise came in.

"Does it hurt still?" he asked as he sat by the edge of her bed.

"Yes, but it's not as bad as before. The ointments seem to be working."

"I must warn you, Mom insists on seeing you. She feels guilty."

"Guilty for making me comply to this marriage and adding a deadly enchantment to the bonding, or guilty for my disgracing of her upbringing?"

"Probably both."

"Don't you worry about that, _cara_."

Hermione just shrugged and whispered. "You didn't fight him, did you?"

"Malfoy? No, Illan and Marcus were very dissapointed. He knew better and simply left."

"He didn't put up a fight? That's not a good sign, Blaise..._he never knows better_."

"I know, I followed him until he dissaparated. He couldn't stay in town, not without a single place to go to in here; no hostels or hotels would allow him in–we made sure of that-and he doesn't even know where to look for the few places our kind uses."

"He'll come back."

"He won't get in if that's what you want, dear."

"I'll have to confront him again someday... "

As if on cue, Angela entered Hermione's room after only a brief knock on the door. Angela wasn't used to speaking in English, none of the inhabitants of the house but Hermione actually, but the others usually spoke to her in English for her better comprehension. Angela was the exception, whom only ocassionally used English to communicate.

"_Nonna , la famiglia Candelarasi __sta traslocando__!" _

"They are moving? That can't possibly be, dear, the Candelarasi have lived in that Manor for nearly 160 years!"

_"__Ci sono molto camion in strada__!__"_

The Candelarasi were a very wealthy muggle family who lived right across the street. They owned a large Manor, it was perhaps a quarter of the Zabini Manor size, but big enough for the neighborhood. Hermione had been there a couple of times, her grandmother Carmella was eager to introduce her to all of her neighboors, even the muggle ones. Apparently, the family had owned that house for more than a century and a half, it was very odd indeed that they were moving, they loved that house.

"Blaise, will you be a dear and stay with your sister while I check that?"

Before Blaise could reply, Angela rushed through the room to grab Hermione by the arm in an attempt to get her to get up. "Come see!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Hermione sighed and made a move to get out of her bed. "All right, I'll go"

All four of them made their way out of Hermione's room and through the hallways, Angela almost danced with every step she made. She looked utterly happy as she lead them to the grand balcony of the living room on the second floor of the house, the view allowed them to see the front street, filled with the moving trucks Angela had mentioned before. There were lots of furniture outside in the gardens of the house, which dozens of men were loading onto the trucks. However, what caught Hermione's eye first was a large banner that hung across the front side of the house's ceiling, which read _"Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits. - DM"_

"Oh dear Merlin..." her voice was barely above a whisper as she hung unto Blaise's arm.

"D.M stands for Draco Malfoy, isn't that right? It's your husband who has bought their house!" Angela's glee didn't go unnoticed by any of them, but they all plainly ignored it.

Carmella turned around to look at Hermione's face, which was contorted with fear and hopelessness; she found the situation utterly irritating, she only wished for her granddaughter's happiness and it broke her heart to see her like this, especially after all of the progress she had made upon the last months.

"It will be alright dear, perhaps if I talk to him..."

Hermione swiftly looked at her, her face still struck with fear; she violently shook her head. "No, no, Grandma; it won't be of any use, not at all."

"Will _you_ talk to him?" Angela asked with a mocking smile.

She hesitated for a moment before silently nodding her head. What else was she to do? Hermione didn't know how long she could delay it, nor if time would make it any worse.

"_Posso dirglielo io__?"_

"No, Angela, you can't tell him. Stay out of this." Barked Blaise.

Angela looked slightly hurt by his harsh tone, she turned around, showing them all her back, and crossed her arms upon her chest, pouting. Blaise's constantly standing up for Hermione didn't make Angela feel any better towards her, she used to be the one he liked best until he bonded with his sister.

"I'll talk to him," said Blaise, his voice filled with determination.

"No, Blaise, I'll talk to him. I deserve whatever he has to tell me anyway."

"No, you don't. You'll stay in here until you feel better."

He stormed off of the balcony, not allowing her to reply.

Outside, among all of the men moving furniture, Blaise saw a couple of the Candelarasi children giving orders to the men of the moving, they appeared to be in a hurry, and utterly excited to be moving away. Those children were 7 and 12 years old respectively, it didn't make any sense that they would be so eager to be moving out at their early age; a normal child would most certainly be whinning all the way. Blaise met with Mrs. Candelarasi, whom was giving orders to just every man in the area. As fond of Blaise as she was, she would talk to him in English out of courtesy, despite his flawless Italian.

"Blaise, dear boy! We were just about to go to your grandparents' house to say goodbye. Can you believe it? We are moving to the most lovely house by the Mediterranean!"

"Why are you leaving? Since when did you have plans for moving?"

"Oh, we just woke up today and realized we needed to live by the sea. And right after that we came across this charming young man who was willing to buy our house and sell us one remarkly convenient property in Genoa. We made up our minds right on the spot! Isn't that funny?"

That certainly sounded funny, Malfoy-style funny.

"But what about your children? They're still in school!"

"Well, there are much better schooling institutes in Genoa than here, we believe it will be most convenient for them. This young man I told you about–Mr. Malfoy-just happened to have these connections to almost every private school we had in mind. And the children are so excited as well! We cannot believe our luck!"

"Is he here now?"

"Mr. Malfoy? Oh, he is such a darling, he is helping us move out. He's in such a hurry for us to see our new property. The sooner the better, he said, and we totally agree!"

'_Acquisentia potion'_he assumed. A very powerful potion that made the drinker agree to whatever the first person he heard would say. They definnitely needed to talk.

"Excuse me, madam; I must meet this Mr. Malfoy you so highly talk about."

"Oh, he is so charming, you most certainly should meet him, Blaise, dear."

Blaise walked away from her, heading towards the house. He found Draco in the living room–the house had only one-sitting down on a sofa while he wrote down something on a tiny notebook. Wisely enough, he was wearing muggle clothes, a grey sweater over a dark blue t-shirt and black jeans, it was probably the first time in his entire life.

"What do you think you are doing?" He didn't look up as Blaise spoke.

"I'm calculating how much it will cost me to furnish this house."

"Malfoy! You won't gain anything with this!"

"Of course not, not unless I demolish the house and build a hotel. "Do you think a hotel would be profitable here?" Draco paused in thought after asking the question aloud, and then answered it for himself. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be profitable...if it would, you would have one already."

"Whatever you are planning, it won't work."

"Did she tell you to say that? It's sounds just like something she would say."

"I'm brewing a counterpotion, Malfoy."

"The contract has already been signed, with the presence of a notary if you must know. It's too late for regrets."

"What do you want?"

"Had you asked me that yesterday, I wouldn't have had to spend a fortune on this place." He looked slightly annoyed for a moment, and added dismissively, "I want a word with my wife."

"I won't let you hurt her more than she already is."

Draco's face changed from indifference to confusion, he looked deep in thought as he stared into Blaise's angry eyes. "You seriously believe I would harm her?"

"I know you don't want just a gentle chat with her."

"I want—" he paused for a moment –"We could make a deal, you and me."

"I'm listening."

"I want to know what happened. You said it wasn't that bad yourself, didn't you?" he paused as Blaise nodded his head warily. "Just think about this, if it isn't that bad, yet bad enough for me to get pissed, wouldn't it be most convenient for _her_ if you told me beforehand what happened so I can take my anger out before I see her? Because, we both know _I will_ see her."

Blaise had thought about this, it made sense, however, he wanted to respect his sister's wishes. Considering altogether, though, he knew Malfoy well enough to know he wouldn't just give up, and having this house in his power would only give him more possibilities to disturb his family's life.

"It was just a kiss." Blaise knew what to expect: rage, screaming, insults, destruction of some sort; but none of those came, instead, Draco stayed silent, deep in thought. A whole minute passed by and he was still silently staring into nothingness.

"Malfoy...are you okay?" Blaise asked worriedly, for the first time in a long time he was worried for the mental health of Draco Malfoy.

"It was the Weasel, wasn't it?" his words came out as a growl, and Blaise sighed in relief, that was more appropriate to the situation.

"The one and only." Blaise nodded and smirked as he saw what appeared to be jealousy spread across Draco's features. Blaise was glad he was focusing his anger on Ronald Weasley instead of his sister. Although, he knew it would be best if they didn't bump into a each other yet.

"He's dead man."

"What are your plans?"

"Oh, you'll see. He won't have a minute of peace after I'm done with him."

Blaise chuckled as he saw Draco get up and start walking in circles around the room; the situation reminded him of other times when he and Draco used to have so much fun together making pranks on innocent people. It had been a long time, and despite his soft spot for his sister, he wanted to have a little fun. He never liked Ronald Weasley any way.

"I'll help you out, Hermione doesn't need to know."

A/N: Yes, I know you were expecting a confrontation, but unfortunately it doesn't happen until next chapter -this is just how it came out. I hope you've liked it though, leave a review and tell me! :)

PS: Thank you so much to CleudLovegood for helping me with the Italian sentences!


	14. Of Promises and Threats

"I bought you something." Blaise took what appeared to be a bar of something from one of his pockets and placed it in Hermione's good hand. "Here."

Both were in Hermione's bedroom, it was midday already. It was cold outside, but the sun shone brightly.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but did it take you three hours to get me a chocolate bar?"

"I had a chat with Draco." Blaise looked strangely calm and content, as if everything was completely fine.

"It must have been quite a good chat if you're back to '_Draco'_"

"It was good indeed," he paused for a moment to smirk, recalling the events he couldn't reveal and thus spoil. "He won't harm you," he reassured her, knowing his sister wouldn't know what he was really thinking. He didn't feel guilty since he wasn't actually lying, even if he had made her think he was smiling because of his last statement.

"I never feared that, even if it was possible. I just don't feel like dealing with him right now, you know."

"I know, so I made an agreement with him. He won't pester you for three days. Today is Sunday, so we don't have to expect his return until Wednesday."

Hermione was stunned. Of all the possible outcomes she had gone through in her head, she hadn't imagined Blaise would come back smiling and saying he had gotten her three days off without having to deal with Draco Malfoy. What had ever gotten into him? The Blaise she knew wouldn't have made an agreement, he would have punched Malfoy right on the face and told him to back off out of anger. He wouldn't have made a deal that enabled him to come back later in the week. Blaise seemed pretty angry when he left earlier that morning. Why the change?

"And you are okay with that?"

"You said it yourself, Hermione, you'll have to see him again someday. But, seriously, if you think about it, three days is an eternity, knowing Malfoy. As a matter of fact, perhaps three days is too long. Have you any idea of how much could cross his mind in that time?"

Blaise made a good point, giving Draco too much time to think about something wasn't always a good idea. Shivers run down her spine just thinking about what craziness he could come up with. He had already bought a house, right across from where she lived, and it had only been a day since he had been forbidden to get into the Manor.

"You may be right." She muttered under her breath. "What did you find out about the house? Are the owners all right?"

"He fed them a potion, probably while they were sleeping. Acquisentia I'd say. He didn't want to confess much about it. But they are fine, just eager to move to Genoa."

"That potion is illegal!"

"Yeah, he shouldn't risk his luck with that sort of magic. The good thing is it's very hard to trace, and by tomorrow or the day after the effect will wear off."

"And by that time they'll be already in Genoa--Blaise, that's awful!"

"Genoa is rather beautiful actually; and much bigger than this town, their children will have lots of possibilities they don't have in here."

"Did Malfoy feed you something, Blaise?"

"No, he didn't. I'm just trying to see the bright side here."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure. Believe me, I know him well enough not to accept just anything from him."

"All right." She said hesitantly. Still confused by the strange change of her brother's attitude, she decided to approach another issue. "How did you manage to come to an agreement with him?"

"Oh, that. I had to tell him what happened."

Stunned once again, Hermione stared at him in bewilderment. She seriously had no idea what had gotten into him, he was acting like...like the issue they were discussing wasn't of great importance, as if it was just a regular, every day occurrence. She had specifically asked him not to tell Draco anything without her consent. It was for Ron's sake.

"You told him...you told him I kissed Ron?" she almost chocked on the words as she spoke.

"The good thing is he won't take his anger out on you; you see? He has three days to chill out."

"You seriously believe that's a good thing?! He'll go after Ron now!!" Desperate, she got up and ran out of her room. "I've got to warn him!"

Blaise ran after her, trying to catch up. He had seen this coming, and he had come with a plan to delay it. "Wait!" He grabbed her by the arm to stop her. "You mustn't"

Hermione turned around to stare at him, she was now sure something was wrong with him. "What are you doing? You know what Malfoy is capable of!"

"And what about Weasley? Don't you think he'll try and pick up a fight with him if you warn him? He mustn't find out, he's not that reasonable."

Hermione knew Blaise didn't like Ron and therefore couldn't be too impartial about the situation, but he was right once again, telling Ron that Malfoy was after him would only lead him to a fight. He had left very pissed off after their incident, he had more than enough reasons to fight Malfoy.

"What do I do then, Blaise? Nothing I could do will stop neither of them."

"Why don't you do this--you talk to Potter about what we've got at hand, he's got more common sense than Weasley; he can prevent him from bumping into Malfoy."

"You are right, it's the best chance we've got."

Blaise smirked to himself as he watched her run to the fireplace, where she would talk to Harry; everything was working out according to his plans. He wasn't proud of manipulating his sister this way, but he felt it was for the best, the best for her. It was most important that she didn't see Ronald Weasley right now; it would ruin his plans.

Minutes later, Hermione was walking away from the fireplace, her face still written with worry, she sat down on a couch and stared at the fire. Blaise stood beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Perhaps I should go see Malfoy." She muttered under her breath, the simple idea of seeing him right now gave her nausea; but she really feared for Ron, and perhaps she could stop him from doing whatever he had in mind, perhaps they could reach an agreement.

"You should go; however, whatever you do won't stop him from taking revenge on Ron, remember that."

"What should I go to him for then? What would be the use?"

"To work things out; he's the only chance you have, after all." Everything came down to this for Blaise, he knew his sister needed someone, he could see it in her. The problem was the only one she could have was Malfoy, therefore, if they didn't do something, if they didn't try and come to an agreement, she would always be miserable. What had happened the day before was the most prominent proof of that.

"A chance at what? A wasted life as a _Lady of the Manor_, hosting parties for people I don't even like and pleasing a husband I can barely stand?"

"He could make you happy, Hermione, he needs someone, too, just as much as you do."

Hermione was thoughtful for a moment, considering Blaise's words. In truth, she had thought about it before, she had played with the idea, wondering if he felt lonely, if he really liked her, if they could ever be happy together despite everything she disliked about him–his prejudices, his hatred, his pride, his stubbornness. She had come to the conclusion it was a lost cause, though. Could things change? She didn't think so; but should they change? That was most possible. He was a human being after all, despite all of his flaws, he had to need someone, too...even if it was for vain reasons, and she was the only one he could have, too.

But it had been him who had backed away from her kiss; how could he explain that? She felt so shamefully devastated after that, she had not told a single soul. Suddenly, a wave of anger overcame her. "_How dare he?!"_ she almost growled as she got up in a rush, leaving a speechless Blaise behind.

'_How dare he get pissed off for that kiss when he rejected me?' _that sentence swirled around her head as she stormed through the hallways of the Manor, it would be she who would give him a piece of her mind.

She didn't even bother to put on a cloak to go outside, she didn't even think of the cold freezing her skin and the chattering of her teeth. Blaise followed after her, trying to stop her, trying to get her to explain him what she was intending to do, but she wouldn't listen to him, she was blinded with rage. It was only when he apparated in front of her to prevent her from going further that she acknowledged his presence.

"Get out of the way, Blaise." She gritted her teeth as she said it, she looked strangely dangerous. Only Malfoy could get her to react that way.

"Wait just a moment; what are you up to? What happened?"

"This is private, Blaise, will you please get out of the way?" Still gritting her teeth and shivering from the cold, Hermione stared at him menacingly with her fists clenched. Not that she had something against him, but his getting in the way wasn't doing any good to her temper.

Blaise hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to allow her to go on. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing, but he couldn't fight her; and perhaps it would be for the best if she was willing to see him, even if she meant to yell at him. At least he knew Draco wouldn't hurt her, he had his word.

The ancient Manor's bells rung as Hermione waited impatiently on the front door. He was taking too long to answer, perhaps he wasn't in the house? A minute passed by, three rings, her anger didn't descend. She took her wand and opened the door with an "alohamora" spell. The house was legally hers too, so she had the magical right to enter.

The lights were off, she turned them on with another spell, not willing to look for a switch. There was no furniture, she realized, but she didn't take a moment of her time to get acquainted with the view, she had a Malfoy to find.

"Malfoy!" She screamed, and her voice echoed through the hallways of the house.

No answer. Curiosity overtook her and she walked around the hallways, the first door she came upon led to the living room, it was truly deserted. The Candelarasis had left nothing behind, not even a rug. She ran around opening doors, each room was the same, at least on the first floor. '_I don't think he's in here,' _she thought.

She wasn't going to check the second floor, it would surely be the same as the first: deserted rooms. Malfoy must be in England, she'd go there if she had to. '_He's not getting away from this.'_

One door called her attention, though. It wasn't completely closed and she had not been the one to open it. She opened it to see another hallway, deserted as well, with a set of stairs that led to the basement. Her senses were keen and immediately, she smelled something. Initially, it was very delicate, very light, but as she walked further into the hallway it became stronger. It was spicy and kind of dusty, it smelled like a potion.

She walked her way down the stairs and reached a smaller hallway that had only two doors, one closed, the other one slightly opened. She passed through that last one, and her gaze met with what she had been expecting: a potion-making room. There was only a rock table nonetheless, and a medium-size cauldron with a simmering potion. She stepped closer to the cauldron, the potion was blue, and there was a large wooden spoon magically stirring the content.

The walls were completely filled with shelves, but there wasn't much on them, only a couple of advanced potion-making books and ingredients. She recognized some of them... whatever he was brewing wasn't good.

The only book that was on the table had no title, only a black cover, and no inscription at all. It looked very old, and it had to be very dark, why else would it be missing a title if not to prevent people from checking it? She tried to open it, but the book remained closed. She had never been faced with something of the sort: a book that wouldn't open. It was irritating, not only could she not recognize the stirring potion, but she couldn't even open a damn book!

"What are you doing in here?" she dropped the book as Draco's harsh voice startled her.

She dismissed his harshness and asked: "What are you brewing?" Her face was a mixture of curiosity and wariness

Draco smirked dangerously, "Nothing you'd like to try." He answered as he closed the door behind him. "I agreed I wouldn't come to you until Wednesday, but it's you who has come to me, what a grand surprise."

His voice, his expression, all of his demeanor reminded Hermione of Lucius Malfoy, he looked so much like his father right now that it was scary. However, she stayed put as she remembered the reason she had come for; her hands fell to her sides and she clenched her fists.

"I'd ask you to have a seat, but there's not much furniture around here." He positioned himself carelessly with his back against the door, his arms folded behind his back. "Let us have a chat."

"Chat? That's all you want from me?"

"Oh, I want many things from you, trust me. But right now chatting will do. Did you have something different in mind?"

"Don't push it, Malfoy."

"Let's get down to business then: I want you back."

"Back? Whatever has gotten into you?"

"What has gotten into me, you say? It's pretty simple, you've disgraced me, _Granger_, and I'll make sure it's the last time that happens. So, you are to stay with me from now on. As it should be."

"I've disgraced you? What about what you did to me? Wasn't that a disgrace as well?!"

"What did I do to you?" He angrily showed her his bandaged hand. "Most certainly not something like this," he paused and took one large breath in and out. "I've let you be for more than four months; I highly doubt my absence has bothered you, although it hasn't done any good either, has it?"

"You are unbelievable."

"What's unbelievable it's that you made out with the Weasel!"

"You have no right to blame me for that! I should have the right to be with whom I love, just like any other person in the world!"

He was silent for a moment, his face changed from anger to confusion and bewilderment. "_Love?_ You still love _him_?" He spit out the words.

She averted his gaze and looked down to the floor, she shouldn't have said that, but it was done now. Draco pushed himself away from the door and stepped closer to her, he put his hands on the table and didn't take his eyes off her face.

"Look at this." He showed her the tiny bottles and jars with ingredients that were on the table. "Pink dixy nails, viper venom, yucca essence, hippogriff feathers, mandragora petals...You wouldn't know what could come up from suck a mix, would you?"

She looked up to meet his eyes, her face unreadable. "Something illegal for sure."

He showed her a crooked smile and put his hand on the black book she had tried to open before. The book opened at his touch and immediately turned its own pages, stopping where it showed the picture of a bottle with a dark-blue potion that read "Insania".

"Read."

"_Insania: This potion slowly causes the drinker to lose his senses; it varies with every person which sense will be completely lost first. Taste, smell, touch, hearing, and seeing will fade away to leave the person absolutely incapable of doing anything on his own. The name of the potion comes from the mental state the drinker falls unto when he realizes he's gradually loosing all of his senses."_

When she finished reading, she looked up at him, he still wore that awful crooked smile; whatever he was planning, she didn't like it. "Tell me something, Malfoy" she said through gritted teeth. "What right do you think you have to be doing this?"

"What you should be asking, my dear, is to whom I am intending to feed it."

"Ron..." she uttered, terrified now. "You can't--!"

"Shh...let me explain how I can." He interrupted her. "I know what you are thinking. How could I risk doing something like that? It's pretty simple, no one needs to know. And now, let me tell you why you would cooperate with me in that simple aspect," he smiled devilishly again. "You see, this book, it's unique, all potions in here are unique. It was started by Acastus Malfoy in 1509, and ever since it's been only written by Malfoys. Passed through generation from generation from father to son—"

"Get to the point," growled Hermione.

"You see, only Malfoys by blood can open this book." He closed it. "I am the only Malfoy of that kind at the moment. And therefore, I am the only one who can open this book again to brew the counter potion" His voice now had a playful tone. "That's why, my dear, you will cooperate with me."

"Are you serious? You are threatening me with something you have yet to do."

"How would you stop me? I don't suggest you to use your wand on me, if you accidentally throw the cauldron, the spilling of its contents will most likely kill us both."

"Having that book is reason enough to have you locked up."

"This book?" He feigned astonishment as he opened it once again and held it open for her, all of the pages were blank now. "Why would I be locked up for having a simple blank book?"

"Even a four year old would realize it's charmed to appear blank. How would you fool the Ministry?"

"Don't you think they haven't been fooled already? This book has been there more than once through the last decades. It always comes back perfectly fine. Why do you think I can afford leaving it unguarded in this abandoned house while I'm not around? It responds to my every wish."

"You are sick."

"I am upset, how would you rather me to relieve my rage?"

She was silent as she stared at him, he kept seeing through her, blaming her with his eyes, defying her with his attitude. "_Please_, don't do it; don't harm him," she pleaded.

"What's wonderful about making a business agreement, _Hermione_, is that both parts can end up happy, even though they'll be losing something in exchange for what they want."

"If I go and live with you, you promise you'll never harm Ron?" Her lack of hesitation bothered him slightly; she was so determined when it came to that vile weasel...

"_Never _is such a big word, it implies so much commitment; if I was to never harm him, you'd have to agree to willingly stay by my side forever. No tantrums will be worth a excuse." He expected her to hesitate this time, but none of that came.

"All right." She didn't even thought about it for a single second.

"Ah, I'm not finished. My agreeing to this doesn't imply I would not defend myself against an attack from him. My promise of never harming him ends if my life is in between." At least he'd have that.

"And my staying by your side forever doesn't imply I'll literally be by your side anytime and anywhere you want, it only means we'll inhabit the same house."

"Fair enough." He offered her his right hand, she looked at it and hesitated--"Would you like to finish the deal with a kiss instead?"

She sighed and shook his hand carefully, both had burns marks for trying to take their respective rings off the day before, they winced slightly as they touched.

"It's agreed then." Draco smiled in triumph and Hermione only sighed and nodded her head. "Agreed."

--

A/N: Loved it or hated it? I didn't expect their confrontation to turn out this way at first, but I liked it this way. What do you think? Review and tell me. :) Last chapter had such a wonderful response! You're all awsome readers!

I am afraid next chapter might take a little longer to update because I don't have the reviewed version yet; but I expect to have it by the end of this week.


	15. Little Things

Hermione had agreed to his wishes, just for the sake of Ron. She would comply, of course, she would stay true to her word, even if she didn't like it. She was sure of one thing though: the least she would do is try to burn that book.

"You look like you've condemned yourself, I don't think living with me can be that bad. We've never really tried, have we?"

"It's not entirely that, Malfoy." She looked up at his face, her demeanor had changed from anger to sadness. "I'll have to give up University to go back to Britain."

"Can't you obtain an equivalence degree on your academic credentials?"

"Not if I don't finish the semester first."

"Then we'll do this, I've already bought this house and we might as well give it a purpose. We'll be living here until you finish your exams this semester, then we'll make sure you are accepted at the University I attend to complete your studies."

"What about your own studies?"

"My classes are past midday, and it's only four times a week. I'll just floo."

"I could floo, you don't have to do that."

"Flooing makes you dizzy, and your classes are in the morning, are they not? It's most convenient this way."

"Would you really do that for me?" –she was wary, there had to be something else motivating his generous offer. "What are you gaining with that?"

"What have I got to lose? Perhaps I can even get you to like me a little."

Hermione only stared at him, it was hard to believe he would do something so considerate for her, and right after their argument. Well, he had threatened Ron's life and manipulated her, it was the least he could do if he actually wanted to live in harmony with her.

"I'm going shopping. We'll need furniture if we are going to live here. You can go pack and explain to your family that we have made up. I'm not willing to deal with your bodyguards for this agreement, especially your brother; so try and act convincing, will you?"

"I never keep secrets from Blaise."

"You should, we all keep secrets, he's no exception." He rolled his eyes; the girl could be so innocent and naive sometimes. She was too kind-hearted for her own good.

"What do you mean?" she looked as clueless as a child as she pondered his words; there was something about her attitude that made him uncomfortable, something that made him shut his mouth and avoid the subject.

"Nothing out of ordinary. You don't know everything about him, he doesn't know everything about you. Happens with everyone in the world."

"Whatever." She said as he turned around to open the door. "Wait, I'm going with you."

He stopped dead in his tracks as he wondered if he had heard right; dumbfounded, he asked: "Shopping?"

"I will be living here, too, won't I? I should have a say in what my house will look like. I don't want it to be all dark and gloomy like Malfoy Manor."

"You want to go shopping with me?"

"That's what I meant." She arched an eyebrow as she said that; questioning him with her gaze. Now that was something new, she wanted to take part in something that involved them both as a couple. She probably didn't see it exactly that way, but that's just how it was.

"All right, as you wish." He opened the door for her and made a movement with his hand inviting her to go first.

They walked their way to the living room, heading to the fireplace, without muttering a single word until Hermione asked where they were going.

"R.I.M, Romano Incantato Mobili; Rome."

He carelessly put an arm around her shoulders as they stepped into the fireplace and flooed to Rome. They appeared in a grand wooden hall, the walls were white, the ceiling was very high above their heads. Every piece in there was a strange mixture of modern and traditionally old furniture. Hermione was very surprised that Draco would choose to buy in a shop with such an eclectic mix; they had nothing like the extravagant Victorian furniture most pureblood families had in Britain.

"_Benvenuti a RIM. Come posso essere di aiuto?"_

A tall, tanned, dark haired men greeted them and gave them a tour through the shop; he showed them all sort of furniture: funny looking, sophisticated, modern, traditional-modern. He was utterly impressed when Draco told him they were the Malfoys.

"Malfoy?" –he averted his gaze from Draco's to look at Hermione. "Hermione Zabini?"

Hermione nodded absently, she knew what was coming next: the man did all but fall to his knees and bow at her. The Zabinis were known for their great acquisitive power, they controlled many banks and companies in all of Italy. And Hermione's wedding to Draco had been almost as greatly published there as it had been in the wizarding society of the United Kingdom.

He was so eager to please them they could hardly focus on choosing what they wanted to take; they had to gently ask him for some privacy to have him leave their side (gently in Draco's dictionary was rather rude for Hermione, but he got the work done).

"What a poor excuse for a man."

"You're just jealous he wasn't that keen on you."

"Just choose a set of chairs, will you?"

"Do you like those?" she pointed a set of dark red wooden chairs with high backs and dark green cushions.

"Whatever you like works for me."

"You have no opinion on the matter whatsoever?"

Draco simply shrugged; his father had taught him it was always the wife who had to decide upon such things. He didn't really care what he would sit on as long as it looked good and cost an appropriate amount of money. In truth, his mother had been choosing from a catalog for him, but since Hermione had willingly decided to accompany him today, he'd have to let her choose.

"I hate it when you try to please me like this, Malfoy. Why can't you just be yourself?"

"I am being myself."

"I don't think you are; just tell me what you would like to have. I am trying to cooperate here, you see? I want us to make this decision together."

"What has gotten into you now?"

Hermione sighed loudly and made a face, she averted his gaze from his and looked down to the floor. "I hate lying. When I approach my family to tell them I'm moving with you, I want to tell them the truth..." –she paused to look at him in the eye –"I want to tell them I am willing to make things work with you. Even if...even if is just as simple as trying to be friends, you know?"

Draco stared thoughtfully at her; that was what he had been trying to accomplish for so long, _trying to make things work ...even if just as friends._ After so many months of trying, after four months of being apart, after a frustrated attempt to be with the man she really loved, after his blackmailing and coercion of her will, now she was standing in front of him and telling him straight she was willing _to make things work_ between them.

'_And here I was thinking something was wrong with just me.' _He half smiled at his thought and averted his gaze from hers to look at the chairs.

"What do you think of the ones in light brown wood with blue cushions?"

"That's better. See? The cushions don't matter that much, their colours change at will."

Draco nodded as he crossed the item off his list. "A set of 12 chairs matching that table will do. That's enough to invite your family for dinner."

"You would be fine with that? Inviting my family for dinner, I mean?"

"I must invite them for dinner, not only you are related to them, but they also happen to be our neighbors. I might not like them but I am not rude. It's you who are supposed to invite them anyway, you are the hostess."

"We are both hosts, Malfoy. We might as well host together if you want to have a dinner party."

The worktops, coffee tables, sofas, armchairs, coat stands, and even the mirrors all matched the set of tables and chairs they had chosen first. Hermione, Draco noticed, even looked excited as she examined every piece of furniture they came across.

"This is funny, see how it acquires height when I sit? Grandfather Tiberius has one of these, too. Not that he really needs them, he's so tall already."

She actually appeared to be enjoying herself instead of the expected whining and mood swings he assumed he'd have to endure. She didn't even bat an eyelash or turn a hair when they were choosing beds. Not until he told her what they needed 5 beds for.

"Seeing we only have 5 rooms on the second floor, we might as well use them as bedrooms. One for you, one for me, one for the both of us, one for my mother and one for a guest."

Hermione had assumed they would be sleeping in separate rooms, just like they had been doing in the other houses they had inhabited; she had also thought about having one or two spare bedrooms for guests; she didn't think, however, it was necessary to have an extra bedroom for the both of them seeing they would not use it, but what exasperated her was the mother issue.

"What do you mean a bedroom for your mother? Your mother is moving with us?"

"Do you expect her to live all alone in Malfoy Manor? She has never lived alone in her entire life."

"She's all grown up, she can manage!"

"I can't leave her alone, she needs me."

"Yeah, she needs someone to boss around who's not a house-elf."

"My mother is moving with us. And that's final, unless you are willing to give something in return." Draco's suggestive smirk didn't help her annoyance.

"The rest of the freedom I have left is not up for bargaining."

Frustration welcomed her with muscle spasms on her neck; she had willingly accepted to live for a whole semester alone in a house with Malfoy, a house that was big, but not as big as the Manors she had inhabited before, with spare rooms that allowed her to avoid seeing others for days at a time if she pleased. Now she would have to live with and see Narcissa Malfoy every single day with no possible way out. Hermione had planned to try and bear Draco for a whole semester, and then, when moving back to England, she would have to be acquainted enough in order to stand Narcissa as well; this turn of events only put an extra weight on her shoulders.

--

A/N: How did you like this? It's completely different from the others, probably because it pretty much lacks angst, don't you think? It might seem a bit odd, but it's a necessary transition. Don't worry though, there's always more drama to come. I believe you'll like next chapter better; and I am eager to post chapters 18 and 19! I already have them, they only need beta-testing.

Next update will be on Sunday if I get enough reviews. :)

As usual, thank you so much to everyone who reviews, your comments are of great help! And if you have any critic and you are unhappy or concerned about something regarding the story, my writting or whatever, don't be afraid to say it; criticism is always of great help.


	16. Grin and Bear It

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on a comfy armchair in the living room, with a prominent sneer on her face. "Everything in here is so...how should I put it? Terribly small? I didn't expect this from you, Draco. Wasn't there a bigger house around you could have acquired?"

Hermione snorted, only Narcissa Malfoy would think a 5,405 square feet property was _too small_. And that was just the tip of the iceberg; she had begun commenting on the furniture before she had even arrived through the floo network –with 6 house-elves behind carrying her luggage. Apparently the fact that Narcissa had not been the one to choose it was reason enough to dislike it.

"I'm afraid this one was the most convenient one, mother. Besides, we shall stay here only until the end of Hermione's semester, it's only a couple of months."

"How will we ever live with only 18 rooms? Honestly, I don't know how the family that used to live here could manage."

She didn't have one single word of approval, not even one. It got worse when Draco showed her the bedroom that was hers. "I thought you said I would be staying in the biggest room, dear?"

"That's the biggest bedroom, mother." Only Draco could muster such patience and composure around Narcissa Malfoy. "Perhaps we could demolish that wall and make one bigger bedroom out of two?"

"Nonsense, that's too much work to do. I'm just worrying about my grandchildren, if this is the biggest room, they will hardly have any space to move when they come here on holidays."

Hermione sighed loudly and rubbed her temples behind Narcissa's back. The house was at least 3 times bigger than the one her parents and herself used to live in, and the three of them used to live very comfortably in there. Could that ever happen between Narcissa, Draco and herself? She wondered to herself.

"You are thinking too far ahead in the future, Mother."

"I most certainly hope not." It was Narcissa who pulled an angry face then as she stared at her son. Draco looked down in shame. That pleasing mamma's boy attitude he had around Narcissa irritated Hermione.

"This place is so small we won't be needing much more than 3 elves in here I believe. I'll send the others to work on the Manor. Draco, won't you be a dear and go instruct them? You know this house better than I do."

"Yes, Mother."

As he turned around to leave, Hermione hoped to sneak out along with him, unnoticed by Narcissa, but she didn't have such luck. "Hermione, dear, will you have a word with me?"

Hermione had no choice but to come to a halt and turn around to face Narcissa as Draco left the room with a slight chuckle. He found it funny that she wouldn't be the exception to his mother's intentions.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Come, take a seat on this _lovely_ sofa you've chosen."

Hermione sat down reluctantly and flinched as Narcissa said "lovely" as if it were a bad word.

"Now, I am utterly glad that you have decided to come back to my dear Draco; I am sure he is thrilled, as well." Narcissa paused for a second to watch Hermione nod absently. "And I most certainly hope this time you'll make it through a week without growing apart once more."

"We'll try."

"I am sure my son will try, he's always been very fond of you." She ignored Hermione's arching eyebrow. "You, on the other hand...How shall I put this lightly? Well, you seem to be having a harder time adjusting to your life as a wed woman."

Hermione opened her mouth slightly to retort, but chose not to at the last second. She would not lose her temper, she told herself, she'd just listen to Narcissa's gibberish and then she'd leave and relax with a good book...

"Of course you've noticed that you don't stand a chance if you dare try being with another man, you might as well lose your hand, but not your commitment." She looked down her nose at Hermione. "I know it's hard in the beginning, but I'm sure you'll find a way to forget that teenager phase you had with _that boy._"

'_Love is hardly a teenager phase.' _That thought swirled around her head as she kept on listening to Narcissa's lecture about her relationship with Draco. On one hand she was right, it was of no use to try and pursue something with Ron, of course she knew that without the need of her reminding; she had already tried to forget about him, but she couldn't help loving him. She truly did love him.

"You seem to think love is something absolutely needed in a marriage. I thought the very same at a moment in my life, but one finds out that's not quite like it. You'll see when you have children, they will take so much of your time you will hardly spare a minute of a day to think about loving anybody else but them."

That's probably how Narcissa had done it, how she had managed to survive a loveless marriage, imposed on her when she was even younger than Hermione herself. She had a child and occupied all of her time with him. Narcissa Malfoy was completely devoted to her son, he probably was the reason she had clung to for living, the reason she never gave up; and that was the reason they couldn't be apart. Hermione had thought about having children, not with Draco, but with Ron. Before marrying Malfoy, she had imagined a life with Ron, a life with two or three children, probably brown haired like her, hopefully their hair would be straight as Ron's and their eyes just as blue, and perhaps they would get at least one red-haired baby. She had even thought about naming their daughter –because they would have had at least one daughter- after Ron's mother, because she had always been like a second mother to her...

"Why are you crying, dear? What is it?" As Hermione shed a single tear, Narcissa hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing, it's nothing, Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" She wiped her tear away and breathed deeply to keep on talking. "I was just recalling something, please go on." The last thing Hermione wanted was for Narcissa to go on, but she wasn't looking forward to spill her heart's contents out for her.

"I was telling you, dear, if you only gave Draco a chance, seeing you are so desperate on such matters, you would certainly grow to love him. I honestly don't understand why you two don't seem to get along, Draco is such a charming boy, if you only weren't so reticent to this relationship you'd realize it all by yourself."

Narcissa would never change her mind about Draco, even if she told her about his little dark book which he used to bend her will and make her stay with him... Hermione was sure he could be charming and all, as Narcissa had so gracefully put it, but he could also be so disgusting, so unbearable, so dangerous.

"You have got to be more flexible in this life, see how I am willing to adjust to life in this tiny house for a few months? I am being mellow; it's really hard, I know. But trying won't hurt you."

"We greatly appreciate your effort, Mrs. Malfoy. I hope you'll find it comfortable in here despite its _inadequate_ size." Hermione smiled a little, hoping that would end the dreadful conversation.

"Oh, I'll adjust, for Draco's and your sake, dear. I only hope you will as well, you know Draco has no problem whatsoever with this arrangement, he's such a good boy..."

'"_...no, Draco's not the problem, you are the problem" ...that's all you've got left to say to say to me,' _thought Hermione as Narcissa kept reminding her of Draco's supposedly good side.

Hermione never thought there would come a day when she could say Draco had saved her; that's exactly what happened when some minutes later he knocked on the door of his mother's bedroom to retrieve her, explaining he needed her to make the last arrangements to the elves' duties. Hermione was more than glad to get up and follow him, she was even planning on telling him nicely she wasn't cooperating in anything house-elf related, with no reproaching at all.

"How clueless can you be, I just feared you would start screaming or something if I'd let you be with her any longer."

"That's oddly kind of you."

"I don't want you to ruin your relationship with my mother, that's all."

"You say we have a relationship?"

"She's fond of you –I seriously have no idea why- but somehow she seems to like you."

"She's being nagging me about my misbehavior for half an hour and you believe she's fond of me?"

"She was chatting with you, she never raised her voice, she didn't insult you, she didn't look down on you much either, I'm sure. She's being very compassionate on you, you should appreciate it."

"You mean to say that if she didn't like me, it would be much worse?"

"Absolutely."

"That must be saying something."

"You have no idea. Just wait until she finds out we'll be sleeping in separate bedrooms."

Hermione smiled as she imagined Narcissa's face and chuckled. Draco smiled as well as he put an arm around her shoulders. Hermione's muscles tensed at his touch as she realized something was wrong; Malfoy shouldn't be doing that, it made her feel uncomfortable and guilty. She felt uncomfortable because she wasn't ready to get that close to him, and guilty because she wanted to have Ron putting an arm around her shoulders as they walked close by around their house...

"Malfoy..." the peculiar pleading tone of her voice alerted him immediately, he came to a halt and stared at her with questioning eyes.

"I... I don't think..." --she carefully grabbed his wrist and made a move to get it off her shoulders—"I..." –she stared at him with pleading eyes, of course she knew he probably didn't understand what was going through her mind, and she believed it would be better if she didn't tell him exactly what her problem was; his gaze turned sterner every second that ticked by, it intimidated her so that she couldn't make up her mind on what to say. She didn't want to spurn and hurt him –if he could actually get emotionally hurt-, but she couldn't just act as if everything was perfectly fine between them. Hermione wanted to make things work with him, but she wanted to achieve that by talking, by getting to know and comprehend one another, not by feigned acts of affection or hypocrite signs of possession.

"I need to see Harry."

"What do you need to see Scarhead for?"

"He's my friend."

Draco hesitated, he appeared to be trying to find a good excuse to go against her will. Not that she had asked for permission, -unfortunately- she was just informing him, yet he could have some sort of say in the matter if he tried hard.

"You can see him here, invite him in." Draco disliked Harry completely, there was no doubt about it, but pondering one and another, it was better if Hermione saw him instead of Ronald Weasley, and he could make sure she didn't see Weasley if they happened to meet here.

Hermione, instead of realizing his true intentions, had something else stand out: "You wouldn't mind having Harry Potter in your house?"

"It's not like he'll be staying over, is it? Because that I would mind."

"And you won't be around to mock him?" asked Hermione, startled.

"I'll let you be alone with him and I won't disturb your privacy if that's what you're asking." It wasn't like she could actually do something without him painfully realizing it.

"Whatever book you're reading is doing wonders for you."

--

A/N: Wow, last chapter got so many reviews! I'm very impressed, I didn't think it would have such a succes, in fact, I thought you would find it kind of boring. This is not much different; I hope you enjoy it. Please, let me know your thoughts. :)


	17. Don't look Back

Hermione and Harry were relaxing in the living room. Hermione would have preferred to be somewhere more private, where she could know Draco wasn't eavesdropping behind the wall. However, it could be used to her advantage if she played her cards right. She could have put a silencing spell on the door, but that would have made Draco more suspicious than he already was.

"It doesn't make any sense, Hermione. Why? Why did you, after four months of quiet bliss, suddenly decide one day to live with him again?" Harry asked in his exasperated and yet soothing voice.

'It was more like from one hour to the other.' She thought as she prepared herself for the explanation she had come up with: "Seriously, Harry, you're making such a big fuss over nothing; I'm giving him another chance, that's all." It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie. "It's your turn."

They were playing a game of cards, the figures would move and try to distract them as they played.

"Just two days ago you didn't want to hear his name ever again."

"Just two days ago I wasn't in talking terms with him."

"Exactly! What—"

"Can we please stop talking about him? You didn't finish telling me about Ron."

"There's not much more than I've already told you; I haven't seen him since then, he's staying at the Burrow."

"I guess I shouldn't worry much about him if he's with his parents."

"He's not mad at you, Hermione."

"I am. He should be."

"It wasn't anyone's fault, okay? If anyone's to blame is..."

"The Malfoys and my mother, I know. But that's no excuse."

"You do no good blaming yourself for things you can't control, Hermione."

"Emotions are quite controllable, actually. Just look at my brother, my mother, the Malfoys..."

"They are Slytherins, it's only natural to them. I wouldn't take that as a virtue." He arched an eyebrow at her and added, "You don't want to be a Slytherin, do you?"

"Of course not! For Merlin's sake, Harry, I'm not like that, just because my brother and my...—" she paused for a second and decided to cross that off. "My brother is a completely decent and lovable person despite being a Slytherin; the house one's sorted in doesn't just turn a person good or bad."

"Sure, Hermione. By the way, talking about houses, this place is much more comfortable than your grandparents' house."

"Because I didn't tell Angela you'd be here. She would have invited herself immediately. Can you believe she actually asked me to tell her when you came? Her only regret about my leaving the Manor is that she won't get to see you often."

"How did your brother take it?"

"He took it well. He even appeared to be happy with it –not dancing in glee like Angela, but he even helped with the moving- I think he befriended Draco again. I don't know, I don't get him sometimes."

"I never do."

"You've never tried." –she dismissed his statement with the wave of a hand and went on: "Illan was disappointed, but he agreed as long as I was okay with it. Marcus doesn't get involved in such childish matters, as he put it." –she smiled to herself as she remembered he cousin's reaction when she reunited the family to announce she was moving; Marcus had been the only one who hadn't been taken by surprise. "My grandparents weren't sure about my decision, but they were very supportive; as well as my aunt and uncle..." –she paused for a moment and stared at him with curiosity in her eyes. "What about you, Harry? You've only asked me _How_ and _Why_, but you haven't really told me what's on your mind."

"You know I... I greatly dislike him and I see no reason for you to stay by his side if he doesn't make you happy. That's why I don't get it. Does he make you happy or is there something else to it?"

"He doesn't make me happy, but sometimes I think he tries. Well, it's not like I make him happy either anyways, huh? That's not the point, at least not for him."

"What's the point then?"

"Coping, trying, I guess. He's not that bad." –'_he could be much worse.'_

"I guess he isn't. You seem perfectly fine after all. I never thought you would actually make up with him instead of fighting after that _incident_."

"Well, I am a reasonable person."

It was only a couple of hours later when Harry decided it was time to leave. As he was walking to the fireplace Hermione hugged him –as usual- and Draco chose that moment to make his appearance.

"Leaving, Potter? Perhaps you would like to stay over for dinner?" he asked casually as he walked to Hermione and put an arm around her waist in a possessive manner; Hermione looked up at his face, she couldn't believe her ears.

Harry looked surprised as well, but surprise soon turned into wariness "I'd love to, but I have an appointment; maybe some other time."

Suspicious, he waved Hermione goodbye and nodded to Draco as he left. Draco was still holding Hermione by her waist when they left, she stared at the place where Harry had left when she spoke: "I really appreciate the effort, Draco, it was very kind of you to invite him, but I seriously can't imagine a more tense situation than having Harry and you at the same table for a meal."

"I wasn't expecting him to say yes if that's what you're wondering."

"I'm sure he knew that," sighed Hermione as she carefully detached his arm from her waist and walked to the large sofa she had been sitting on before. Draco followed after her and sat on an armchair, close enough to face her.

"We've received the invitations to your cousin's wedding. Mother's been invited as well."

"Do you want to go?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do, you can excuse yourself and no one will remind you about it for the next 30 years. I, on the other hand, have no excuse whatsoever."

"I'm going if you are going."

"You hate my cousins."

"No, your cousins hate me; I just don't care about them. Besides, does it matter? I'll also have to put up with them every single holiday you intend to pass with them, and any other encounter for that matter."

It seemed only natural to him, but to Hermione it was another subject to think about over and over and over again. Everything he said was true, it was real, and it was sticking. They actually were family, more legally than affectionally of course, but yet, they were committed and Draco had completely assumed to take part in her life as her husband. And she couldn't tell him no.

"Right, better get used to it." She stared silently into his eyes for a moment, wondering what it would be like to comply and actually work it out. He didn't stare back, he was staring out the window, deep in thought.

Hermione wanted, at the moment, two things: first, to get over Ron, and second, to at least become friends with Draco, to try and forge a relationship with him. She didn't know which goal was the hardest. Could she ever get over Ron? Would she ever quit loving him? She knew the answer to the last question: no, definitely no; she'd never stop loving him, but perhaps she could quit being in love with him. Perhaps if she actually gave Draco a chance...

But was it fair to give Draco a chance in an attempt to forget about Ron? Hermione didn't want to use him, it wasn't like her to do such a thing. Although Draco wouldn't mind–he was using her as well.

'_I guess he does like me, though. If he didn't like me, we wouldn't be here right now, not like this.' _

Even if he liked her because _he had to_ like her, didn't it speak well of him to put aside everything he disliked about her and make an effort to be around her? She was doing the very same thing, actually; when she looked at Draco, she couldn't think of him as a muggle-hater, elf-slaver and spiteful man, even though she knew that wasn't far from the truth; what she'd see was a young man, a person like her who was too stubborn to think differently, and yet, she knew he had a good soul underneath.

And that's what matters, isn't it? Being good despite all of the bad qualities one can have. Perhaps he could be changed with her good influence, perhaps she could make him see things her way, perhaps he could be better. Maybe she could help him--even if he didn't want to be helped.

There were good qualities about Draco, she knew that much. He could be very gentle, he could be funny –although his humor mostly was sarcastic--, he loved his mother to no end and that spoke very well of him--any honorable man loves his mother despite all of her flaws--, he wasn't keen to torture–despite his horrible upbringing in the dark side--, he could be patient–he had a limit, but he could be patient when he wanted to.

It was a matter of seeing the bright side.

"What?" asked Draco, just realizing Hermione was staring.

She shrugged and averted his gaze from his, blushing slightly. "It's nothing."

"Are you angry?" his tone was skeptical, he narrowed his eyes intending to get a better look at her.

"No, why would you say that?" she shook her head and faced him in bewilderment

"Because it's the first time I see you blush and it's not out of anger." Draco smirked, making Hermione blush some more, before she could reply he added: "Were you ogling?"

"I most certainly was not!"

"You were!"

"No! I was just wondering something."

"Okay, you were ogling _and_ wondering something." –he smirked some more, got up and sat right next to her on the sofa before she could reply. Hermione moved to have more space for herself. –"Please, do tell, what were you wondering?" he said in a playful tone.

"I was _just_ wondering... if ..." –she hesitated, he appeared to be in a pretty good mood, but it was better not to push it too far. –"Would you accompany me to visit a friend?"

Surprised, Draco stared at her with questioning eyes. He had no idea what was going on through Hermione's head, never would he have thought she would actually want him to accompany her for a social visit; and whom would it be? Surely not Potter or the Weasel.

Hermione, in truth, had to improvise something very fast. It was something she had already thought about some time ago. If Draco Malfoy was willing to do this –and behave properly during the visit--there could be chance for the both of them.

"Who?"

"Andromeda Tonks."

**--**

**A/N:** I've taken a little longer to update this chapter because I've only got 3 more chapters written, so if I update too fast there will come a moment I'll have nothing to update. In truth I'm very entertained writting a new story(dramione) "A gift from the future" (I guess I'd translate it that way), but I'm writting it in Spanish (it's my native language in case you didn't know), _I am looking forward to publishing it in English, but I'll need a betareader to do that (I can't ask my beta for this story because she's got too much work already), so if anyone's interested in a less dramatic story to check for me pm me with your age and nationality (in truth I don't have many mistakes, I spellcheck with the word spellchecker myself, but sometimes grammar is a problem, some things get lost in translation, you know? but they are easily noticeable for a native speaker because they are phrases that just don't make much sense)._

So, about this chapter, how did you like it? I'm worried you won't like the less dramatic ones to come, I mean, I've been used to writting drama for a year and now things are getting slowly less dramatic, I guess that's normal though, It was about time, don't you think?

By the way, just a few days ago this story turned 1 year old! I published chapter 1 on september 29, 2007. Is there anyone around here who has been reading this for over a year? LoL it would be impressive! (and also very bad of me, been writing for a year and the story is not finished yet!)

I am overwhelmed by the amount of wonderful reviews this story is getting, it's matched the response in spanish (I'm also translating this to spanish, see how much work I've got?). I love you all, thank you! Keep them up, even if it's to tell me what you dislike about my writting, or just that you want me to keep updating, reviews make my day.

**PS:** Kim, I'd love to answer your review in private (I love long reviews like yours, they are very useful), but since you didn't log in I'll have to do it in here (I hope you don't mind). I'll explain the difference regarding Hermione's character in here and in JKR's world. Basically, in the books Hermione is not the protagonist, even though she also has to deal with the war, she doesn't have to deal with the very same things Harry has got to deal with, therefore, she can be there for him and be supportive of him. In my story, all of the problems of the plot are directed to her, and she lost her parents--in the books she doesn't have to deal with something of the sort--, therefore, there's no way (in my opinion) that she can wake up one day, realize her parents are dead and after three months of getting used to the situation just accept the fact that her destiny has already been chosen for her and she is supposed to marry someone she doesn't even like.

Of course she's a strong character, many people would kill themselves in the situation she's faced with, but instead of hurting herself or even considering the idea, she tries to get up and move on (as she said in chapter 1 to Harry and Ron in the hospital "I am not ready, but I must move on"); and the very same happens with the Malfoy situation, the problem there is that Hermione and Draco don't know each other well enough, or they think they know each other well enough (which is no good either because they really don't), and well, you've read it all. I don't think she lets Draco push her around that much, she's constantly rejecting him and telling him how he should behave afterall. Besides, it's not like she's thought something like "well, now I'm married to him I should just accept it and let him do whatever he wants to me", she only let's him do things that don't bother her much (like placing an arm around her shuolders, she'd rather have Ron doing that, but well, she can't have him; it's something that's been continuously developed through the story, and there's still more to come). Perhaps you might like C20, where Hermione discusses the relationship with Draco.

I am very glad you like my story despite what you think about my portrayal of Hermione; I hope my explanation about her situation helps a little with that. I guess we all write trying to place ourselves into your character's minds, but in doing so, we write half what they'd do and half what we'd do, you know? I wrote about months of depression because in that situation, I would most certainly be depressed (although I'd be a bit more drastic than her), and I can't even imagine what I'd do if I was faced with an arranged marriage to someone I don't like at all (I guess no one in the occidental world can, we should read it from someone who lives in a society where that's common currency).

Thoughts anyone?


	18. Turn Around

"Andromeda Tonks?" he asked in wonder. Who was she talking about? The name Tonks sounded familiar, but he couldn't match it with a particular person. Was there a Tonks in Hogwarts? Not in his house, that's for sure. He didn't remember anyone from his year named Tonks in any house.

"Yes, your aunt." She pronunced every word delicately, expecting a more extreme reaction.

His first thought when he heard the word "aunt" was of Bellatrix Lestrange, only half a second later he realized who she was refering to: Andromeda Black! He had completely forgotten his mother had had another sister; in truth, all of his family had forgotten about her. During his childhood it had been forbidden to speak her name. His face turned suddenly very pale and he swallowed soundly as he stared at the expectant eyes of Hermione Granger. She wanted him to see his exiled aunt, he wasn't even sure he was allowed to call her "aunt"! He had never met her, he had only been told about her when he was about 7 or 8 years old and his parents decided to explain him what happened to blood-traitors, so they gave him the example of her mother's sister. Otherwise, he would have never known of her existence; it was as if she didn't exist, as if she had never even been born...it was complete exile. That's the reason the name Andromeda didn't ring a bell for him, he had only heard the name once in his life, well, twice now that Hermione had mentioned it.

"Well, what do you think?" insisted Hermione, seeing he was speechless and determined to get a answer.

'_This is a test, obviously'_though Draco; it was pure malice, of course, and yet, terribly brilliant. What were her intentions though? He wondered. Most certainly, she wanted to see his reaction. Well, his silence for over a minute had already provided her with something. "Sure, I'll go." He blurted at once, realizing he had no idea what he would actually do. _'Will she actually make me do it? Should I ask Mother? Should I tell her? How will she react?'_ he was slowly beginning to freak out, but he had to keep his compusure in front of Hermione, so he averted his gaze from hers and made himself more comfortable on the sofa.

"Really?"

It was really hard for him to nod in a positive maner, not daring to look at her for she would discover the ongoing battle inside his head, so he closed his eyes and attempted to relax on the comfy couch.

"I don't mind going alone, you know." She tried again, checking how much will he had in order not to get off the hook as she knew he actually wanted.

"And I don't mind going with you." He said as he sighed internally and kept his eyes closed as he still quarreled with the thought. _'Why is she doing this to me? I've been extremely gentle! Mother will hate the idea.' _

"Are you sure?" she asked in bewilderment.

He slowly opened his eyes and stared into hers, he looked tortured but determined: "Yes. Just don't say a word to Mother about this. She must never find out."

A speechless Hermione nodded her head. She wasn't expecting him to agree just like that, but what impressed her the most was the fact that he was worried about his mother finding out instead of worrying about meeting a _blood-traitor_–as he would call her—from his own family.

That same night she wrote Andromeda a letter asking her what she thought about meeting Draco–and mainly, what she thought of Draco meeting Teddy. She assured her he would not harm them in any way, and explained him she needed Draco to meet her. Andromeda, unfortunately, only found out about Hermione's wedding in the news, therefore, Hermione reasoned, she'd be utterly confused about Hermione's wishes, what was she to say ? Lie, saying Draco wanted to reedem himself or something of the sort? In truth, it was she who wanted him to redeem himself. It would be an akward situation, but it'd be worth it.

That night they had had their first dinner together as a married couple. Hermione had been the one to cook, she refused to have the house-elves do anything, much to Narcissa's annoyance. Both Draco and his mother were surprised by her cooking skills. Narcissa had a disgusted look upon her face until she tasted the first bite of Hermione's pork chops. Apparently, it was a great honor to have her congratulating Hermione's food. After they were all done, Draco had chosen to recluse himself in his room; so, Hermione was left in the company of Narcissa Malfoy who wouldn't allow her to do the dishes. It was bad enough that she cooked, Narcissa explained, a lady of society like she now was should never do such a thing as cooking or cleaning. Narcissa let pass the cooking issue because food was the key to a man's heart, therefore, if the food was good enough, Draco would like her better; but cleaning was out of the question. Hermione didn't want to argue with her–she seriously didn't care if she was the first Malfoy or Zabini to do chores—but she couldn't have Narcissa's house-elves do slave work.

It was utterly hard to come to an agreement with her, but apparently, her fear of Hermione's disgracing the family name and blood made her accept paying the house-elves for the work. _'Next time I might even manage to get them days off', _Hermione thought to herself_. _She was so glad over her little victory she went to bed and slept with a smile upon her face.

When she woke up the following morning, she ate breakfast with Narcissa, who was an early riser, unlike her son, who would sleep until 9 am or so apparently. Before Hermione left for University, Narcissa informed her she would be spending the rest of the day in England, and would come back for dinner, therefore she and Draco would have the place for themselves for the day. It wouldn't be much though, since Hermione would return by midday and Draco would probably leave after lunch, and by the time of his return it would be time for dinner. Hermione was kind of glad for that arrangement, this way she would have the whole afternoon–and the house--for herself. She didn't remember when was the last time she had been really alone.

Her morning class schedule was fairly good; she was sorry she'd have to leave Italy and change to the British system, although it would be easier for the language matter, she had gotten used to the Italian system and simply loved the challenge. Before moving with Draco, she would dedicate every afternoon after lunch to her translations and further studying of the language along with her carreer. And her family was of great help, she realized just how much she would miss living with them when she went back to her new home that day. The house was beautiful–despite Narcissa's saying on the matter—everything was new and shiny, she couldn't see it as her home though. She had barely been living there for a day and she knew just how fast she'd have to leave. And she had been in so many new homes in the last year! The only place she could call home by heart was her parents' house–now abandoned after a month of quarantine and another four of comfort in her grandparent's Manor. In the five months she spent in her mother's Manor in England, she came to consider it her home as well, but after learning of her disturbing engagement to Draco Malfoy, she had decided not to have anything to do with her mother again (at which she failed) and leave the Manor; after that she went back to live in her parents' house; the one day that she lived in Malfoy Manor could hardly be taken into account; and the four months she lived with her grandparents and the rest of the Zabini heirs was a different story: she had felt at home after the first month, but still she couldn't think of it as _her_ home, because she had no right over it, and no history whatsoever. The first week she felt like a total intruder, but when she got to know her cousins Illan and Marcus as well as her aunt and uncle, she felt they had their arms wide open for her; and that's just how it was.

'_Will I ever call Malfoy Manor home?' _Legally it was, she had the right over it. But would she ever feel it?

She hung her trench coat and her scarf on the coat stand and took her gloves off. It was freezing outside, in contrast with the warm temperature inside the house. She walked silently through the hall to the studio, where she'd left her bag with her books. Draco was nowhere in sight; she didn't feel like looking for him, but she felt it would be the right thing to do since she wanted to have a good civil relationship with him. "Draco?" she called over the hall as she walked to the living room–he wasn't there.

The feeling of a hand on her shoulder startled her, and with a gasp she turned around to see him. He looked very serious and expectant. "How was your day?" He asked very gently.

"It was good, very good." She nodded, reassuring her answer. "How was your morning?"—before he could reply, she noticed his outfit—"Not over yet, apparently. What are you doing in your pajamas at 12:15 in the afternoon?"

"Gee, you sound like my mother. I only came down here because I heard your call."

"I'll ignore that statement. Will you have lunch with me today or are you expecting to wait until the last minute to get ready for your clases and leave?"

Draco arched an eyebrow, surprised for her forward and overbearing attitude, but chose to comply and change for lunch. He wanted to believe Hermione was going back to her old normal self—displaying that attitude he used to hate so much in their Hogwarts years, and yet, he found himself strangely fascinated towards. He prefered the bossy Hermione rather than the depressive and hysterical one he had grown to dislike greatly in the past months.

"Andromeda has replied your letter."—he explained to her during lunch—"It came this morning, the owl woke me up scratching my window. Thank Merlin mother wasn't the one to receive it."

"Had you woken up earlier, there wouldn't have been much risk."

"What's your problem with my morning schedule? It's not like you are here to be disturbed by it, and even if you were, how would not seeing me ever disturb you?"

"It doesn't disturb me."—she wasn't going to answer his last question—"It simply shocks me. I would think you'd have something to entertain yourself with rather than sleeping more than an infant."

"Sleeping is very relaxing if you must know. It clears my mind from having had to stand you the day before, and it prepares me for seeing you through the rest of the day," he smirked as he watched her glare at him; it was funny to nag her. "But if you stay one morning, I'll wake up on time and you might as well amuse me."

"You are so childish," she rolled her eyes at him. "What did the letter say?" It was time to change the subject, she wasn't planning on letting him get deeper on her nervers.

"What makes you think I opened it? It's not meant for my reading."

Slightly surprised, she shrugged. "I simply figured it was something you'd do."

"I know you don't think very highly of me, but you could at least try and hide it sometimes."

"All right!" She emphasized the words as she got up of her chair in a rush. "Where did you leave it?"

"Are you in such a hurry to read it you can't even finish a meal with your husband?" Not that he minded, he just was tyring to tease her, to his amusement and Hermione's annoyance, who only glared deadly at him as she expected an answer. "It's in my room, on my nightstand." He saw her hesitate and added: "You are allowed in, believe it or not."

Draco thought he saw her blush slightly as she turned around and made her way to his room. She came back pretty quickly with the unopened letter in one hand. Only once she sat back down she opened it. Draco eyed her warily as she read it; whatever the letter said, he was almost sure he wouldn't like it. If his aunt was a muggle lover and friends with Hermione, she surely wouldn't reject a visit.

"She's inviting us over for dinner."

"Dinner?"—he almost choked on what he had been swallowing. He hadn't been expecting a dinner, perhaps just an afternoon tea, something than didn't imply more than an hour an a half visit! But a dinner implied at least two and a half hours, in which they would talk before dinner was served, during it, then during dessert, and after the dessert they'd have to make an after-dinner conversation with tea or coffee!

"You can still back out."

"I'm not backing out." He said through gritted teeth; and she smiled defiantly. "What's so funny?" he almost barked.

"The battle raging inside of you. What are you so scared of, _Draco_?"

"I am not scared, _dear_." He emphasized the last word in hopes of bothering her, but she didn't flinch like she used to. "I am simply not looking forward to having dinner with a woman whom I don't even know and risking my mother's rage."

"You have never met her in your 20 years? Seriously? Not even once?"

"Not even once. All bondings were cut, that's what exile is about. All I've been told about her is that she disgraced the family marring a mud—_muggle-born_ and even worse, bearing his offspring. It was forbidden to speak of her, so the subject was only spoken of once as an example for me not to follow." He shook his head with a concerned look on his face. "If mother ever finds out, I'm not sure about you, but I'll be a dead man."

"Don't you hold any interest in getting to know her?"

"Should I?"

"Merlin, Malfoy, don't you have a judgment of your own?!" He opened his mouth to reply but Hermione prevented him from doing so by continuing on with her speech—"I don't know about you—which is exactely why I am asking but you don't seem to realize it!—but when I was told I had relatives, I wanted to meet them, I wanted to know where I came from, what my family was like. If any of my mother's blood relatives were alive, I would most certainly want to meet them despite the stories about her background." She paused for a moment in which both of them stood in silence, only staring at each other, one in wonder, the other expectant. "When you were told you had an aunt, didn't you even feel curiosity and wonder what she would be like?"

"I don't know, it was a long time ago. I guess." He shrugged, it was hard for him to empathize with Hermione's thoughts about family. He hadn't been close with the few relatives he had come to know. His father had no siblings, his grandparents were all dead by the time he went to Hogwarts, and his aunt Bellatrix...well, he hadn't been very fond of her, scared would be more accurate.

"I guess you didn't have much family to relate to, huh? Your only relative at our wedding was your own mother."

"And 57 of our wedding guests were your family."

"I have many relatives; I wish I could get to know them all as well as I know Illan and Marcus...and even Angela."

"Angela is the skinny girl with braids that gave me that cookie box and the thank-you note?"

"Yes, she's has grown fond of you ever since _you made me_ move here."

"Cute kid, I bet she'd be in Slytherin if she was in Hogwarts."

"We agree on the Slytherin subject." The conversation stopped for a couple of minutes as they started eating again. "What should we tell your mother about tonight?"

"We'll tell her we are going out for dinner together. We'll emphatize the word 'together' in order to let her assume it's an special ocassion for us, she'll probably believe we are working things out and she will even spend the night in Malfoy Manor to give us some privacy for our return, just in case." Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, Draco kept on babbling. "She might send a house-elf to spy on us though, but I just might know how to deal with them."

"I am not letting you harm those poor creatures just because you are scared of your mother!" Hermione exclaimed through gritted teeth. Draco only arched an eyebrow and glared at her.

"I wasn't going to." He averted his gaze from hers and harshly called for the three house-elves her mother had instructed to work in the house. The three of them appeard at the very same time, at the same second Draco finished calling them.

"You three, I am comanding you not to follow us by any circumstance tonight; if mother asks any of you to do so, you are to tell her that we asked very kindly to have some privacy, and that it would be very good for our relationship if she didn't persist with such wishes. If you happen to be obliged, you come to me and tell me straight away. If you go against my best interest, I'll free you all."

His last resolution made the elves literally shake with fear as they nodded their heads. They instantly disapparated when they were dismissed by Draco. How the elves could fear freedom was beyond Hermione's understanding.

"Your mother..."—she started kind and slowly—"...can threaten them just as much as you do. I don't see the point of that, she'll find out one way or another if she wants to."

"And I could threaten them for a third time, it would be a never-ending circle; therefore, she won't see the use of going against my will. But she'll ask questions, I assure you."

"And I am supposed to lie?"

"Lying is such an strong word, darling, evasive statements might be what you're looking for."

"Your mother can't afford to publicly stand against her own sister for her marriage to a muggle-born. I don't think you need dwell so much on it, she shouldn't pester you about our meeting."

"What happens inside, stays inside. Malfoys never go public."

"Whatever, Draco; I'll be expecting you at 7:30 pm. You should talk to your mother over the floo before leaving for your classes; she was planning on coming for dinner."

Hermione shook her head in bewilderment as she thought: _'What a paranoid boy'. _The rest of their lunch was surprisingly good, they didn't argue about anything, he didn't even try to tease her again, it was impressive just how civil he could be when he wanted.

She only hoped it would last until that night.

--

A/N: Here it is, for your eyes only. Did you like it? Review and tell me. :)

Next chapter will be their visit to Andromeda, you can expect to read it in a week time.


	19. Think about It

Draco appeared to be about to back out as they prepared to leave for Andromeda's that night. He spoke as though he was very determined, but his will wasn't as strong. Hermione wondered if it was really the fear of his mother's rage that made him hesitate, or was it actually his aversion to blood-traitors—which he tried to hide from her—that made him hesitate so much.

Despite his internal struggles and his mother's paranoia, Draco did his best to feign indifference and, with an arm holding her by the waist—of which she wasn't planning to complain about just for the sake of a more peaceful coexistence—he stepped into the fireplace with her. The floo network landed them in his aunt's house. Before his eyes met with the view, his ears recognized something he didn't hear very often: a crying baby.

When he opened his eyes—it took him a little longer than usual—a shiver ran down his spine as he thought he was seeing Bellatrix Lestrange. But Hermione's smiling and walking up to her reassured him it wasn't his dead aunt who had came back from the dead with a whining toddler on her arms.

Andromeda greeted her eagerly and handed her little Teddy, whom Hermione hugged and kissed profusely. The toddler appeared to calm down when she held him and laughed heartily, pulling her hair and gurgling. Hermione took her eyes from his little form to watch Draco—who was still managing to maintain his composure—being hugged fiercely by his aunt. The poor boy didn't know what to expect nor how to react at such a display of affection; he wasn't used to that kind of thing, Hermione realized. Teddy looked up at her face and followed her sight's path, he then seemed to notice Draco and changed his hair colour to match his as he pointed at him and made a baby sound.

"He's your cousin Draco; can you say _Draco_?" asked Hermione, little Teddy didn't seem to be listening to her and only stared absently at Draco, whom Andromeda was leading through the living room to sit onto a couch. Draco's face no longer showed indifference, he now looked utterly confused and desperate as he stared back at Hermione, pleading for her help with his eyes.

Hermione smiled to herself and followed them. She sat down next to Draco, with Teddy on her lap—who was trying to reach Draco's face—and Andromeda sat on a couch right in front of them. She had been constantly flattering Draco and asking him personal questions since they had arrived. He stared at her in bewilderment and only nodded his head in response; only when Teddy yelled in complaint did Draco avert his eyes from her face and look at him instead.

"What?" startled, he asked the toddler, who changed his eye colour to his when he could finally see into his eyes.

"Uh-ahh," answered Teddy, now trying to get off Hermione's confining arms to go to Draco.

"He wants to go with you, Draco." Andromeda told him whilst Hermione playfully complained that little Teddy was abandoning her. She looked expectantly at Draco as Teddy struggled against her grip; if Draco had been clueless before, now there was no word to describe his state of mind.

"Uhm... okay?" it was more of a question than a statement; Hermione chuckled and placed the child on Draco's lap, she instructed him to place at least one hand against his back to prevent him from falling down. He stared at the toddler in wonder, and the toddler looked at him with curious determination as he made an effort to stand up and reach his nose; apparently, he wanted to know what it was like to pull it.

"Why is he doing this?" asked Draco now in a funny voice, a product of Teddy's investigation.

"He wants you to say '_quack'_, like a duck," Andromeda explained.

"Uh-ahh," confirmed Teddy.

"I am not saying '_quack'_". His statement made the child laugh happily as he dropped his nose and let himself fall back sitting onto his lap; both women laughed as well. Draco didn't understand them, the situation appeared to be funny, yes, but it was awkward. He had never, in his whole life, handled a baby, nor that funny aunt who looked too much like Bellatrix yet acted even more affectionally towards him than his own mother.

She didn't seem to be so bad for a blood-traitor, he acknowledged. Not that he was supportive of her choice of a husband—and further offspring; but she appeared to be nice. Although it made him a little bit uncomfortable that she was so caring and insisted in knowing more and more about him, and persisted in asking unsettling questions about times he had no recollection about, either because he had been too young at the time or because had not even been born.

It was like this all the way through dinner. He had hopefully thought that maybe his aunt and his wife would spend the whole night talking to each other about their stuff—they were women after all—but, apparently, it was he who had to be the center of attention. Perhaps if Hermione hadn't been so busy entertaining the child during most of their visit, Andromeda's attention would have been more equitable.

When it was finally time for Teddy to sleep, Andromeda left them alone for some minutes. Draco envied him, he was exhausted too but he couldn't go to bed, he had to stay for coffee before leaving. Luckily for him, Hermione seemed tired as well, she yawned delicately after Andromeda and Teddy were out of sight.

"You dote so much over that kid I'd bet you'd kidnap him if no one was looking."

"Oh, it's just that he's so adorable! Did you notice how happy he was to see me? And he can't possibly remember me, it's been more than an year and a half since I last saw him. He's grown up so much!" she smiled as she recalled the scene. "Seeing him so happy makes my day."

"We should have him over often then."

"You want to have him over to my amusement? I don't know if I should find that sweet and considerate or just plain creepy."

"You know what I consider creepy?"—he leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear—"That woman's constant attempts to get closer to me."

"You've got to consider you are the first connection she has had with her family in years, Draco. For over 27 years she hasn't been part of what once was her everything! Can you imagine what that is like? Everything you had, everything and everyone you knew, turning your back on you and forgetting your existence"

He considered her words for a moment, but he couldn't help concluding that it had been her choice, she had chosen what to do of her life, she had even had the chance of deciding whom to share her life with. Hermione replied—barely above a whisper, with a sad look upon her face—that love could never be a matter of choice.

"It just... It just doesn't work that way." She shrugged, now remembering Ron again. She hadn't heard from him since Saturday, when he left after their incident. Harry had told her he had gone to his parents' house, Hermione sighed as she wondered how he'd be doing. Unfortunately, it wasn't convenient for either of them to see each other right now; although she wished to see him and talk to him, it was probably better if she didn't.

If there was one thing Draco Malfoy hated, it was seeing Hermione sad over the Weasley; he knew there couldn't be there any other reason for her melancholic demeanor at the mention of the words "love" and "choice". He frowned and averted his gaze from her face; he'd rather her focusing all of her attention on that little cousin of his instead of that vile Weasel.

It was Andromeda's return that snapped them out of their trains of thought. She closed the door behind her and claimed Teddy was finally asleep. They sat in the living room around a coffee table where Andromeda offered them tea, coffee and cookies—as though dessert hadn't been enough. Hermione's face changed instantly when she arrived, smiling and offering her help. Draco, however, only managed to display indifference.

"So, you are married." Her sentence startled them both; they had just realized that, in all of the subjects they had come upon, that one hadn't been touched. Draco noticed Andromeda's eyes on his left hand, still bandaged. "It hasn't been easy, huh?" she asked, not really expecting an answer as she served them tea.

"How did you prevent it?" asked Draco; he had just realized, but it was so obvious! These kind of arrangements were tradition on both sides of his family, not only his mother had been through an arranged marriage, but his aunt Bellatrix as well, and that meant Andromeda should have too.

"I didn't."—she shook her head—"Actually, I was eager to get married to my fiancée, Niklaus Earnshaw; would you like to know my story, dears?"

Hermione, who had her mouth slightly opened in awe, nodded profusely She hadn't thought Andromeda would know about their special arrangement, her mind had been so busy with other things! What would Draco think about that?—she glanced at him, he appeared to be pretty calm and she could swear he looked kind of curious, too.

"I was raised knowing whom I would marry, just like my two sisters. I didn't see him too often when I was a child, but our parents made sure we would at least meet 4 times per year to get acquainted with each other. It was the same with my sisters, although both had different reactions towards their fiancées. Bellatrix, as you may know, was the oldest of us; she never cared much about her future husband, but she accepted him without complaint, she took it as her duty to marry him, and, since it was her duty, she saw no need of getting acquainted with him—every time Rodolphus Lestrange would visit, she didn't even bother to talk to him more than it was needed. She didn't care what he was like, she didn't try to forge a relationship with him, because she knew she'd marry him either way.

Narcissa always was more lively than she, and she didn't mind marrying Lucius at first, but I'll leave her story for the end, because I am right in the middle.

Unlike my sisters, I was friends with Niklaus. It wasn't an intimate friendship, but we enjoyed spending time together every time we'd see each other. He was very kind to me, and I was eager to please him, because he was my ideal for the future; I even helped my mother choose the preparations for my wedding from a very early age. She'd get so upset because I'd change them every now and then; but it made me happy to imagine and plan how my life with him would be like. In truth, my desire wasn't to marry him specifically, it was to have a husband. It was my goal in life. Had it been any other person the one I was to marry, I would have complied just as eagerly, even if he didn't like me.

Bellatrix married Rodolphus when she was 16 years old, I was 14 at the time and I couldn't wait to follow her path; although her marriage didn't seem to be fruitful and she didn't seem to care much about her husband; back then I never understood how could she be so indifferent towards him, he was never mean to her, he was constantly trying to please her, at least in front of us. She never complained though, and she always behaved as she had been taught and did as she had been instructed regarding her wifely duties.

My fiancée and I were supposed to marry when he turned 18, I was 17 at the time and two months before my wedding date, I would study catalogs of wedding dresses almost every afternoon after class. I would sit with some of my classmates and Narcissa—who was two years younger than me; we had claimed our own space in the Slytherin common room where we would analyze them all and discuss which we liked best for our own weddings. We were very girly-like; Bellatrix, unlike us, always preferred to focus on her studies rather than dream of the future.

I thought the day of my wedding to Niklaus would be the happiest of my life, and it was--until the reception. The most unlikely thing happened. We were all gathered in a beautiful meadow, since we were hosting the reception outside. There were hundreds of people, I think the guests were about 450 or so, perhaps even more, so you can imagine the size of the place, the amount of tables and chairs. I believe my wedding was the most expensive my parents had to support; mother had always been very pleased with my attitude towards my engagement, and so she wanted to reward me for it with the wedding I wanted.

Perhaps if there hadn't been so many people, my husband wouldn't have felt like going out to the woods with his friends to take a break from the party. I was so busy chatting with my own friends I didn't even notice his absence when he left. Had I known the risks of going into those woods, I would have asked him not to do it. I don't know if he would have listened to me, though.

Apparently, while walking around the woods, they found a cave. They intended to check it out—Niklaus loved exploring—and so there they went. No one expected to find a Hippogriff there, normally it wouldn't have been that much of a problem for 3 adult wizards, but it happened to be a female with her newborn, and alcohol didn't help their cause either. They didn't stand a chance against an angry mother.

You most certainly can't imagine my desperation when we found them, they had bled to death. I cried for days. I was sad over Niklaus's death, but my despair wasn't out of love. You see, when one loses a husband in that kind of arrangements, it's almost impossible to find another one. I was 17 years old, no pureblood family of our social status would have betrothed one of their sons to me—even if they had had one available (which wasn't something very likely, but it could happen in strange circumstances).

Thus, the depression that followed after that accident was due to the fact that I would never have a husband, never marry again, ever. I saw my whole life falling apart when I saw the pool of blood around Niklaus' body, not because he was gone, but because I had lost my only chance to have a husband, you know? It was a very shallow and selfish thought. But, well, if that hadn't happened, I would have never fallen in love with Ted.

I think it a month after my wedding, I was in my last year at Hogwarts—just like him. I was a Slytherin, he was a Hufflepluff; I had never paid him much attention before, but we had to meet during rounds—we were prefects. I was usually able to put on an indifferent facade—as most Slytherins do—but as weeks passed by, instead of getting better, I was getting worse. My parents were attempting the impossible to get me a husband, they traveled to every single European country to meet with the best families; I realized their search was useless.

One day I met up with Ted for rounds, it was the first time in my whole life I couldn't pretend any longer. Anyone could have realized I was depressed, I wasn't even trying to hide it. Ted tried to comfort me, and I was so down in the dumps that I allowed him—it was something completely new to me, I was being comforted by a muggle-born! We didn't finish our round that day. I got to know him, despite my prejudices towards his kind, and I realized he didn't dislike me despite the prejudices he knew I had against him and all of his kind, it was as though he didn't take it personally. I was completely upset with myself at first for I had been taught to hate muggles, and I most certainly couldn't hate _him_.

After a few days of struggling with my feelings, I came to a conclusion: it didn't matter. Why follow my blood's doctrine when my kind didn't do anything for me? I had lost my husband, and since it was bad luck to marry a witch who had lost her husband—in an arranged marriage, of course—even if there had been someone desperate for a wife, I wouldn't have been his choice.

And so, I let myself fall in love with Ted. We did our best to hide our relationship until we graduated. I couldn't tell my parents I wanted to marry him—they still had a blind hope to find me a new husband—because they would have locked me up in order to prevent it. So, we got married right after graduation. It's rather ironic, you know? I spent my whole life as a young girl planning a huge wedding, and the best one I had consisted of just the two of us and a priest.

But I didn't regret it, all that mattered to me was my love for Ted. That's the reason our wedding couldn't have been more perfect, because I was marrying the man I loved. And I realized what a horrible person I was, because I had never seen Niklaus as a person, I don't think I could have ever loved him as I loved Ted, I only loved what he would be to me; I was very childish and shallow, as I told you before.

On the following day, I went to my parents and I explained to them what I had done. Narcissa was there when I told them; none of them could believe it. They were all speechless for I don't know how long, until my father spoke: "Gather everything you have and leave. I don't want any traces of you in this house."

Mother struggled between crying and showing her back to me. The last thing my father told me was that I had two hours to leave the house, and he didn't want to ever see me again. Narcissa ran out of the room crying before I could mutter my last goodbye to our parents.

I asked the house-elves to pack everything I owned. When I went to my room, I found Narcissa there, crying on my bed. We had our last argument there. We used to be very good friends, as much as sisters can be, you know? I understood her fury wasn't due to my marrying a muggle—I don't think she considered me a blood-traitor—but because that meant I'd have to leave her forever. I explained to her what I had learned about love, real love, for we had never been taught about that. And one of the last things she told me was she wouldn't marry Lucius, it would be her revenge towards our parents for my exile, her defiance would mean they would all die off because of the blood curse and if she survived then she'd do like I did and marry out of love. She was only 14 years old at the time, she had always being the dramatic type.

"Well, you already know what happened next."

Both Draco and Hermione were so absorbed in the story they couldn't believe it was over. It gave them a whole lot of things to think about, and it allowed them to know lots of things they didn't know of Narcissa and her family. They were speechless for a whole minute until Andromeda urged them to say something.

"Have you any regrets?" asked Draco after hesitating a moment; Hermione wasn't prepared to speak, she seemed to be too engrossed in her own thoughts

"No, I don't. It's very cruel of me if you think about it, since I don't regret Niklaus's death. Because, had he not died, I wouldn't have fallen in love with Ted. I would have liked to keep in touch with Narcissa, I wanted to prevent her plans—I didn't want her to risk her life like that, and despite what they had done to me, I didn't want my parents to die either... but it was her choice."

"I could never picture my mother in the light you describe her."

"Is she too changed? She married Lucius, I guess she did change her mind."

"Yeah, but his father died in the process."

"That must have scared her off."—Andromeda nodded her head and took a sip of her tea.—"But I am sure she's still got something of her old self deep inside." She paused to look at Hermione, who looked completely absentminded. "Are you okay, Hermione, dear?"

She didn't respond until Draco poked her. "Hermione!" Startled, she looked up to Andromeda's face. "What?—yes, yes, I am fine. It was a beautiful story, Andromeda, it's just that I am so tired."—she grabbed Draco's arm and got up, making him stand up alongside with her.—"It's so late, I'm afraid we should go."

Draco was even more surprised than Andromeda about Hermione's unexpected hurry to leave. She thanked her with heartfelt gratitude for inviting them over for dinner and insisted on repeating it another time.

When they arrived to their house, Hermione ran off to her room.

--

**A/N**: This chapter was really long, I know; but did you like it at all? Review and tell me. :)

I've decided C21 will end Part II of the story and we'll move on to the final part, which will be told by either Hermione or Draco's POV, past tense only I believe.


	20. Spill it Out

Watching Hermione act so absentminded was unsettling for Draco. And Malfoys were not supposed to feel unsettled. It made him feel worried, and feeling worry was making him feel troubled, he didn't know how to act in this situation.

Ever since they had come back from his aunt's—which was four nights ago—she had been behaving like this. Hermione barely paid him any attention, he had to ask twice for her to realize he was talking to her, she would stare out the windows for a long time, and she didn't even intend on visiting her family across the street anymore. He had asked her if she felt sick or something, the only answer he got was a shake of her head.

Her books would lie open on her lap as she stared at the horizon, it seemed she couldn't even concentrate to read. Just the day before, he had attempted to get her to open up to him buying her a gold bracelet, she was supposed to jump in joy and hug him out of happiness—women were supposed to love jewelry, after all—but not Hermione, she only stared at the golden piece and almost a minute later she finally looked at his face and thanked him with a forced smile. As days passed by, his temper would grow shorter and shorter, he was strangely desperate to know what was going through her head. The weird thing was she didn't seem to be depressed at all, nor sad nor angsty—which was a good thing, there was no reason why she should feel that way—instead, she appeared to be overly thoughtful.

The only words he'd receive from her nowadays were "good morning" and "good night", and that was only in response to his. Even his mother had tried to talk to her, resulting in a tantrum—since she hadn't been able to get Hermione to speak, she resolved he was somehow guilty of whatever was happening to her and scolded him. On the fourth day, he felt so desperate and hopeless he decided to call Blaise and ask for help—which in his mind was close to making a deal with the devil. Malfoys were supposed to work things out on their own, asking for help was shameful. But what was there left for him? He couldn't force her to speak, he wanted to, but he couldn't.

Blaise's visit didn't last long, just fifteen minutes after getting into the studio—she apparently had wordlessly claimed to own that place, since she spent most of her time there doing nothing—he came out with an unreadable expression on his face.

"She kicked me out. She's never done that before," he explained, not yet able to believe it himself.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. She didn't even hug me, she barely had the strength to smile when she saw me. Are you sure she's eating at all?"

"Yeah, we have every meal together."—he had even been waking up on time to join her for breakfast, something very unlikely for him.

"When I asked her if she had any problems she slowly shook her head—not even looking at me—and told me she had to study; I insisted and she specifically asked me to leave. If she's not herself by tomorrow, I'm having her checked by a healer, Malfoy."

Draco didn't even complain that Blaise acted as if he was her sole protector, he had the very same plan in mind. Just a couple of hours after Blaise left, Draco decided to try again. They were alone in the house—his mother was so upset over Hermione's demeanor she claimed she couldn't inhabit the same house, and left for England until, as she had put it, both of them had sorted whatever problem it was that they had.

"What's wrong with you, _Granger_?" His words came out harshly, but in truth he was concerned. Hermione didn't seem to mind, and still, she didn't seem to be paying him attention.

He stepped closer to her and cornered her in that chair in which she was sitting. His closeness made her turn her face to look at him. She didn't show any fear or shock at his presence, she only stared at him in a questioning manner.

Draco was about to ask again, just as harshly as before, but staring into her deep eyes made him hesitate—somehow, it was she who was intimidating him right now. Not that she looked scary or something, but a situation where he wasn't the one in control didn't suit him.

"Won't you please tell me?" he tried again, softer this time, and staring deeply into her eyes, never taking his away from hers.

Hermione stared at him, deep in thought as she had been for the past days, she scrutinized his face, his every feature and his words. After a long moment of silence, she slowly moved a hand up to his face and carefully caressed the left side of his face. Draco, completely shocked, opened his eyes a bit wider and was about to speak again, but Hermione stopped him with her own words.

"What am I to you, _Draco_?" In contrast with his first statement, her words came out slowly and rather softly, her voice was very delicate, she didn't hesitate to speak, and yet, there was some sort of doubt when she did it.

"You are my wife." She swiftly moved her hand away from his face when the words left his mouth and placed it in her lap, next to the other. She nodded absently and turned her head in order not to look at him again. But he wasn't moving from his position.

"Is that what's been troubling you? What I think about about you?" It appeared that she hesitated to shake her head in a negative manner, but she did it.

"What is it then?"—there was no answer, and he tried again—"Look at me, please."

He had used the very same sentence at their wedding, she remembered and sighed soundly. After a moment, she looked up at his face again.

"I don't want to be your Bellatrix Lestrange or Niklaus Earnshaw."

"It's a strange analogy that one you're making."

She shook her head, more determined this time. "No, it's exactly like that. Andromeda longed for a husband and would have done anything to please him and be with him—that's just what you are doing with me."—she paused, during which she stared at his eyes, he looked utterly confused, just as clueless as he had been when he met Andromeda—"And Bellatrix didn't mind having her loveless marriage, and simply complied with her _duties _with no love for life whatsoever. That's what you want me to do. You want a wife like Andromeda wanted a husband, and you want your wife to be like Bellatrix."

Silence conquered all sounds again; Hermione didn't look sad, but preoccupied somehow, there was some sort of longing in her eyes, as if she was expecting him to do something, to say the right thing, to either agree or disagree with her. He looked horrified.

"For Merlin's sake, Granger! I don't want you to be like anyone in my family, especially Bellatrix!" His words burst out all of the sudden, perplexed and hardly believing what he had been listening to. "I like you just the way you are."—he shook his head—"Well, not exactly like this, but like you are when you are...you know, yourself."

"You don't want me to be a devoted wife? Is that what you are saying?"

"You can't be a devoted wife, Hermione, that's never going to happen, not in a million years. What kind of gullible excuse for a man do you think I am anyway?"—he smirked out of disbelief—"Even if I were, I'd rather shoot myself than having you being like Bellatrix."

"That's what you were raised to expect though."

"If I went by all of the rules I've been raised to follow, we'd be unhappily living in Malfoy Manor and we'd at least be expecting our firstborn."—she put on an unreadable face and turned her head again; Draco panicked, he couldn't lose this chance to have her opening up to him. "I don't believe you care all that much about being up to my standards though."

Hesitating, she bit her lip before answering. "I don't."—she then closed her eyes and took a large breath.—"And I shouldn't care about you being up to mine."—she opened her eyes and stared back at him, now looking kind of worried—"I want you to, though."

"Sounds unfair to me."

"I know. The thing is I can't decide how I should feel about this."

"You can't control your feelings."

"No one can, how come that doesn't bother you? How can you be so calm and serene about all of this?"

"I don't mind about any of this, it's just that simple. Your problem is everything troubles you."

"But you should mind! Wouldn't you want the chance to choose the person to spend the rest of your life with?"

"Is that what you've been sulking about all of these days? About Weasley?"—he sneered—"Won't you ever get over it?!"

"Just answer my question, Draco."

"What does it matter? What I've wanted has never been a matter of choice. Right now I wish you didn't love him, I wish you didn't mourn over not being able to be with him, I wish you would forget him and I wish I could be good enough for you."

Hermione looked down to her hands, suddenly finding them rather interesting; Draco was catching his breath and expecting a reply, she could tell, but she wasn't sure about what to say.

"It matters to me... Because I wish I didn't love him like I do, I wish I could forget about him, I wish we could be just friends—Ron and I—and I wish I couldn't hurt him anymore than I've already have."—she paused and hesitated for a long moment when she looked at Draco's expectant and stern eyes—"and I wish we could love each other, you and I."

Draco's face barely showed his shock, his eyes were stern still, his mouth hung open slightly. That was the one thing he had not been expecting to hear, what was the right thing to say in response to her wish? He could tell her that he wanted the same thing—in truth, he wouldn't mind loving her—although he didn't mind having a loveless marriage, one out of love didn't sound that bad. He didn't know much about that kind of love, he had never experienced it and he never expected to. And he most certainly could tell he cared about her, he just didn't think the reverse could be true, though.

"But you don't think you can love me."

"I didn't say that."

"It's what you've been wondering all these days though, isn't it? How you could ever love someone like me?"

"No, it's not that, Draco. I've been wondering lots of things, but that's not one of them. I know I can love you—I believe I can love anyone—however, if I could be in love with you…that I cannot know for sure."

"You've lost me here. What in the world do you want me to do? I've been nice to you, haven't I? I've let you have your way all the time, I've complied to mostly everything you've wanted, I've even lied to my mother for you! I agreed to live here just so you could finish this semester, and I've put up with four days of your absent state of mind. I don't give a damn if you can't be in love with me, but I can't have you isolating yourself and moping around all the time over who or what you can't have; you are driving me insane!"

"Well, it's not my intention to drive you insane, all right? All I want... I want to get along with you, that's all I want."

"I thought we were getting along."

"Sort of, I guess. We might be getting along just as much as we can."

"Do remind me please, what's the problem then?"

"The problem is everything between us is fake, Draco. We are supposed to feign affection in public, whilst in private we are supposed to cope with each other regardless of our lack of friendship and affection. We are supposed to get along just because we are married, not because we actually want to. Don't misinterpret me, I want to get along with you, and I know you want to as well...but would you want to if we were not supposed to be together?"

Silence was all the answer she got. What was there for him to answer? He liked her, he'd probably like her better if they weren't married, but in truth, if they were not supposed to be together, he wouldn't put so much effort into being good to her.

"I am not even asking if you'd like me if I were a muggleborn, because I know you wouldn't... I'm just asking if you'd act the same way towards me if all of these pureblood marriage arrangements didn't exist—just like our law says—. If I only were Blaise's sister, I'm not even placing Harry and Ron in the picture, then what?"

"If none of this existed, if you were just Blaise's sister, I'm sure Blaise wouldn't let me even look at you. But I'd try."

"Why would you try?"

"Because you are different from all I know and all you are supposed to be; I like that about you." His words were true, in fact, that's what attracted him the most about her: her stubbornness to follow whatever is imposed on her, her kind soul, her soft voice and soothing eyes, her calm demeanor when it comes to things that other women would freak about, her witty resolutions, and her fearless attitude towards things that others would crumble if confronted with. Draco knew she still had all of that inside of her despite her current situation, in which she'd found herself depending on others instead of others depending on her. It was normal, he imagined, she was living a common situation.

Hermione stared at him silently for a while, pondering his words, struggling with her own thoughts. She sighed once again—she had been doing that rather often lately—and decided it was time to ask something that had been bothering her for some time now. "Why did you back away from my kiss then?"

'_Oh... that...' _ Draco inadvertently shuddered; he had been hoping she wouldn't remember about that. "I... I..."—he stuttered, and made an attempt to keep his composure.—"I was upset, all right? You just came out of nowhere and kissed me when what I wanted the most at the moment was to have you out of my life."—Hermione only stared at him with an interested and expectant look upon her face.—"But it's been four months since that, for crying out loud! If I was to bear you a grudge for every time you've done the very same thing to me I wouldn't be capable of breathing the same air you breathe."

Hermione smiled shyly, the odd thing was she appeared to be smiling at him. "What you are saying is I did to you the very same thing you did to me."

It was Draco's turn to feel overwhelmed by the truth of Hermione's words; he realized then just how right she was, and how far apart they had grown for trying his trying to grow closer. Why did he always have to be the problem though? He averted his gaze from hers in anger, not because he was angry at her, but with himself.

"You were right then."—she didn't avert her eyes from his face, and kept on showing that tiny little smile—"We are not as different as I thought."

That did call Draco's attention and he turned his gaze to stare back at her, arching an eyebrow and wondering what she was on about exactly "Meaning...?"

"Meaning we can both be our worse enemies or quite the contrary if we try. I think."

Hermione then got up from her chair and walked up to Draco—who still was having a hard time comprehending the situation and stared at her in bewilderment—, and she offered him her right hand to take.

Draco took her hand and got up from his chair in the same motion. He stared carefully into her eyes, pondering what he was supposed to do next. Soon enough, Hermione let go of his hand and placed her arms around his neck in order to hug him forcefully, pressing all of her body against his.

"This is all I want right now."

--

A/N: Well, there you go. Confusing? Sweet? Unexpected? What do you think? Review and spill out your souls. :)

Next chapter is Marcus wedding if I'm not mistaken; and right after that we start part III, the final part. I hope you enjoy reading from a first person perspective (I enjoy writting it much more than the third person POV).


	21. Move On

"What are you doing?" The question was pretty straight forward, and appropriate for the situation. It came from Draco's mouth. It had been hard for him lately, inhabiting a house with his wife.

Just the day before, after days of worrying over her, she had basically asked him to start things over and hugged him. She had never ever in their whole lives hugged him; and it wasn't an act, for there was no one around to see. Why had she done that? It appeared to be an attempt to get closer to him, he had assumed; however, since he wasn't willing to push his luck, all he did was cautiously return the hug—almost afraid to touch her—and asked no questions.

That morning, on the following day, Draco came to know another phase of her that he had no knowledge of: she was having some sort of a tantrum.

It was her screaming in anger that called his attention and made him go straight to her bedroom, where she was literally walking around in circles, looking mad enough to break something.

"He left!" she said out loud, rather loudly actually. Apparently she was trying very hard not to scream. "I cannot believe he left!" She explained, completely exasperated.

"What are you talking about?"

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head; she breathed in and out deeply and walked to her bed to sit down. "Ron left..."—her voice was now a whisper, her face struck with repressed sadness—"...he fled from his house, fled from our world..."

Draco said nothing, he gave no sign of shock, no sign of concern, worry or interest; all he did was stand there and listen to her.

"...fled from everyone he knows... all he left was a note."

Hermione breathed in again, both of them remained silent until she spoke again, this time turning her head to look at Draco in the face. "Should I be angry or sad, Draco? I don't know... I feel both at the same time."

And now she was actually asking him what to do and how she felt at the very same time. There was always some surprise in store when it came to living with her. Perhaps it was a good moment to sit by her side and comfort her, it was what friends did after all, wasn't it?

"Why does it anger you?" he asked as walked and sat next to her on her bed.

"Because it's been a week, Draco! He left a week ago and only now I am informed!"—her tone became harsh again all of the sudden—"Harry sent me a letter... he said they didn't tell me sooner because they thought he'd return..."—and just like that, her voice cracked and turned sad all over.—"... and it's my fault, he left because of me..."—she sighed and whispered—"...because of what I did to him...".

Although the whole _trying to be friends_ thing was something really good for both of them, sometimes Draco wished she didn't share that sort of matters with him. Talking about the Weasel always angered him, and how could he help getting upset over him? Especially considering he was being reminded of something that should have never happened, and only just a week ago.

"You are better off without him." His voice was a little bit harsher than he had intended, but that was all the answer she was going to get from him. And it was the best he could give her, because, in truth, he didn't have anything better to say.

"I am sure he is,"—she shrugged absently.—"But did he have to forsake everything because of me?"

Hermione didn't expect an answer, and Draco was not willing to give her one either. The situation could only work to his advantage. He'd let her speak and keep his mouth shut for now, it would be the best... let her spill out her heart and then explain to her how much better a weasel-free life will be.

"Of course he did."—she answered her own question—"What's better than getting away from everything and trying to forget all of your problems? I've done it."

"But your problems follow you," replied Draco, feigning indifference, but in truth, annoyed by his own words.

"Problems..."—she sighed and lifted up her chin to look at Draco, her voice now full of determination.—"Problems are what we make of reality."

Silence reigned for long seconds in which Draco and Hermione stared at each other, one pensively, the other wary.

"Would it be wrong, Draco?"—she started shyly but determined at the same time—"Would it be wrong if I wanted you to kiss me right now?"—Draco opened his mouth slightly to say something but she put a finger on his lips to prevent him from doing so.—"It would be unfair, wouldn't it? Because what I want right now is to forget everything about him, I want to forget him the same way he wants to forget about me."

"You'll forget him." He answered seriously, ignoring the other question. What was he supposed to say? The prospect of kissing her just because she wanted to forget her ex-boyfriend didn't amuse him; in truth, it would be unfair, just like she'd said. But would it be wrong? It was odd just how unappealing the situation was for him at that very same moment, even though he found himself wanting to take advantage of her confusion, of her ramblings and especially of her request. But he felt guilty. "And I'll kiss you whenever you want me to. But you know just as well as me that a kiss won't make you forget him."

Hermione was surprised by his resolution, again, she had not expected him to reject her proposition, but this time, although it was kind of painful, it seemed like the right and noble thing to do, given the current situation. She slowly averted her gaze from his and looked down to her hands. "What will?"

"Time?"

"Time? As in '_Time heals all wounds'_?"—she smiled sardonically, still not looking at him.—"Time doesn't heal any wounds, it pours salt on them."

"Alright! Then you'll never forget him, whatever."—he then stood up abruptly and exclaimed in exasperation: "You'll just live every day moping around for relinquishing a life you never could have had!"

Hermione ignored his outburst and got up to stand right in front of him, a stern look upon her face. "I won't."

"You won't?" he asked cautiously.

She shook her head and walked past him, making her way to a large shelf where she had pictures and tiny sculptures. She grabbed three of them and proceeded to throw them out the window—which was thankfully open.

"I am done with him." Was all she said after throwing away Ron's gifts. The expression on Draco's face was unreadable, but Hermione was much too determined to care. "I'll get rid of everything he's ever given to me, and then we'll go to Marcus's wedding."

Draco only nodded absently and left the room, assuming that was his cue to leave her alone. The Weasel only seemed to get him more problems--now his wife was throwing things out the window like a moody teenager.

"_Well, I guess that's because we are teenagers." _They weren't grown ups, sometimes he had to remind himself of that. In truth, they both were pretty young when they had to start acting like adults; now they actually were adults, it seemed like they couldn't help acting as if they were younger. Or perhaps they were just acting their ages? He couldn't know for sure. But, still, 20 years of age isn't much.

Marcus's wedding wasn't any different from the usual high society pureblood ceremonies. There were hundreds of guests, tons of food, and more money spent in decorations and acts than what a regular wizard could ever dream of having. It was very loud, the guests seemed pretty happy at the reception, and the newlyweds as well, surprisingly for Draco; but, of course, not his wife.

Just a few hours ago she had claimed to be over Weasel, something that would have made Draco's day only if it were true; but he knew otherwise, for she had only claimed so out of anger, and now, to make things worse, she was at a wedding reception, seeing happy people after a happy ceremony. She probably, no, she _surely_ envied her cousin's bride, who loved Marcus and wanted to be married to him, she'd be happy with him. How he wished he could at least give Hermione that, but all he seemed to manage lately was to make her more miserable, even when trying to be better for her.

He had, after all, been there for her that day. For the moment, they stepped into the ceremonial place Draco had noticed her smile was feigned, it just didn't match the melancholy in her eyes, something that probably not many would notice, but he knew what was actually going through her mind.

When the bride and the groom had pronounced the enchantment that would link them forever, he had to held her close to him in an attempt to prevent her from crying her heart out, because he knew it wouldn't be just a few tears that she'd shed, it would be a river of them. But, luckily, she accepted the comfort of his arms and fought against her sobs.

By the time of the reception, she appeared to be composed again, smiling as if she meant it, chatting amicably with the people she knew and politely refusing the other men who asked her to dance because it would have been too much to bear.

"She's not doing well, is she?" Blaise asked Draco once he had been released from the picture taking. Hermione was a few meters away talking to some of her relatives.

"You noticed?"

"I know her. I knew she wouldn't take this well and I recognize her attempts to seem well."

"Scarhead told her this morning that the Weasel ran away."

"It was about time."

"She wanted to kiss me out of anger."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't think it was right."—he sneered—"I know it's ironic, the most convenient move, that's exactly what I won't do."

"Who knows, perhaps you did the most convenient move for the both of you."

Only Hermione, however, could tell that though. She accepted a dance with her brother, Draco had expected that, Blaise was one of the few people she couldn't say "_no"_ to. Would she accept a dance with him? He wondered. Surprisingly enough, after dancing with her brother for what seemed to be forever, she didn't refuse him.

"You don't have to do this as a show, you know."

"I wasn't planning to." She answered truthfully, showing him a weak smile.

"I thought you didn't fancy dancing," he commented as they started a waltz.

"I had been dancing with Blaise for half an hour when you asked me."

"But you refused all the other men."

"I thought it would be wrong to dance with any other men before I had danced with my own husband."—she paused to look at him in the eyes and added, thoughtfully: "I thought you'd never ask me when Blaise approached me."

"Not that you could ever refuse something coming from him."

"Probably not,"—at this, she laughed heartily—"You are very good at this, by the way."

"Better than your brother?"

"Does it matter?"

"Guess not."—he paused as they kept on dancing, after a while, he commented: "You know, I wasn't going to ask you until I saw you dancing with him."

"Is this some sort of competition between you two?"—she arched an eyebrow at the thought.

"No. What I meant to say is I didn't think you'd want to dance with me because you refused so many invitations before his."

"How are we ever going to accomplish something if we keep behaving that way?"—she wondered out loud as they both came to a halt.

"What do you want to accomplish?"

Hermione clung onto his arm as they walked to their table.—"I told you I want us to be friends."

"How do we start?"

"We've already started."—she smiled at him, genuinely it seemed—"I like it when you are like this."

"Like how?"

"Simple, that's all. I like it when you are not acting, pretending to like me; I like you when you are yourself and behave accordingly, kind and gentle, but not too much."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. I'd also like to know more about you though."

"Ask away."

"Uhm..."—she thought hard about it and then asked—"Where did you learn to dance like that?"

"Mother taught me when I was younger. We had a lot of free time before I went to Hogwarts. It was probably the same with your brother and mother; who taught you?"

"My dad." She looked down at her hands when she said that, a sudden sadness all over her voice, but she quickly made up her mind to overcome it and went on: "He was great; but it was a long time ago... Blaise helped me remember the right movements."

"He reminded you well."

"Thank you," she said and then paused for a moment, thoughtful as she stared at the people dancing another waltz on the dance floor. "What if... what if we get out of here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come." She grabbed his hand and made a movement to make him stand up. "I'll show you something."

This time, as he hurried alongside her out of the ball room and they ran through the corridors, making their way out of the manor, Draco had no idea what in the world his wife was thinking. They had only been at the reception for three hours, the sun was setting and it was freezing outside, there was snow all over the fields and the trees that surrounded the place were all leafless and frozen. Once they were outside, Draco thought Hermione would lead him to their own house—which was right across the street, but she kept running in a different direction. He ran next to her until there were no more trees and rocks to dodge. Right in front of them there was a cliff, and on the horizon one could see how the sun was slowly setting.

"This..."—he started, panting heavily from the run and the cold—"This is what you wanted to show me?" He pointed at the red and yellow sky as he let himself sit on the snowy ground next to her. She nodded her head in response.

"Don't you like it better than a thousand people talking and dancing waltzes to the loud music?"

"Much better," he acknowledged with a chuckle. "It's a great view."

"I used to come here often when I was feeling down."

"Are you feeling down now?"

"No, I am not."—she shook her head and then turned to look at him in the eyes.—"I wanted to share this with you, that's all."

"I'd never imagined you'd rather share this with me than be in Zabini Manor surrounded by your family and another thousand people you don't know."

"Well, this is the kind of things friends do."

"Did you use to come here and watch the sunset with your friends before?"

"Once or twice, yes. I wanted them to see this."

Silence reigned over them for a few minutes as they watched the beautiful horizon, only listening to each other's breathing and the gentle whistling of the winter breeze. It was Draco who broke the silence.

"But you are not doing fine."

Draco's words struck her, and she took a long moment to answer, still staring at the horizon. "Despite everything that has happened between him and me, we are still friends. Our friendship has always been strong enough to overcome all sorts of problems; that's the reason I cannot digest his leaving like that. It's like he's given up on us... on us as friends."

Again, he didn't know how to behave properly in this situation, just a few months ago he would have taken advantage of it, but now he seemed to have grown a conscience and the little nudger wouldn't let him be.

--------------------------------

A/N: Here it is, the end of Part II. How did you like this chapter? I hope it's good enough to understand what's coming next. Review and tell me. :)


	22. Part III: Falling Away with You

**Part III: In Came the Light**

It was on a cold December night that my nightmares began once again. It was nobody's fault, just the time of the year. Very soon I'd have to face the one year anniversary of my parents' death. So my mind would remind me about the accident, showing me the most horrible images one could imagine.

There was one improvement to the situation though: I was fighting against depression instead of sinking into it. The painful memories would never go away, the guilt and the regret would reach the surface now and then, but I wasn't willing to lay in my bed to feel sorry, nor to lean on anyone's shoulder to cry. I wanted to move forward, I wanted to live, I wanted to focus on my career and forgive my mother.

The first time, however, wasn't easy. After months of finally managing to sleep through the whole night, I woke up screaming. There were tears in my eyes when Draco opened the door of my bedroom that night.

He didn't even knock, he simply entered and turned on the lights (since the former inhabitants of the house were muggles, no arrangements had been made to take the electricity off, and Draco found it pretty useful), wand in hand.

"Bad dream?" Was all he asked when he realized there was no intruder inside. I nodded my head once as I dried my tear-struck face with my hands.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" I had gotten used to Draco's kind and gentle manners, which had become rather usual those days. Especially when he noticed I needed him to be that way. I was grateful for him that night as he walked over and sat by my side on the bed to listen to me.

"I was in the car, on the backseat."—I slowly lifted my chin up to look at his face, he didn't seem to be tired, I had fully awakened him—"In front were my parents, my father driving, my mom speaking to him."—I didn't want to look at him in the eye any longer when I told what happened next.—"A truck appeared all of the sudden in front of the car, there was no way dad could have dodged it."

"It might have been a memory."

I silently nodded my head and wrapped my arms around my knees. "Do you think they suffered?"—I asked absently in a whisper—"It might sound awful, but I hope they had a heart-attack before the collision. Just so they couldn't have felt the crashing."

Draco didn't answer me, he barely understood what I was talking about, he had read about cars, trucks and such things in one of his muggle books, but that didn't mean he could completely comprehend the sort of matters that were going through my mind.

"I am sorry for waking you up, Draco."

"It's no problem. I'm glad mother is staying in Malfoy Manor tonight, though, she wouldn't have been so happy about waking up at 3 am in the morning."

Too scared to care, I silently moved closer to him, allowing him to put an arm around my shoulders and letting my head rest upon a side of his chest. It was the first time in our lives I allowed him to comfort me like that, but I had somehow grown used to being around him, and although we weren't intimate friends, we could live comfortably around each other, in a month's time we had managed to put aside our differences and cope with living together.

It wasn't like we wouldn't argue every now and then, we didn't live in complete harmony and bliss, but we could stand one another, and that was a huge improvement. The thing was, we both wanted to leave the past behind and move on with our lives.

Minutes passed by and I wasn't looking forward to getting back to the sleep; Draco, however, appeared to be nodding off. I was curious as I listened to the quietness of the night, would it be wrong if I let him sleep in my bed? Would he get the wrong idea? He didn't seem to be awake enough to do anything else but drift off to dreamland, and I didn't want to be alone that night.

I wasn't going to forget the colorless faces of my parents, I knew they would be all I'd see when I finally closed my eyes. It had been my birth mother who had supported me in my first weeks after the accident, when I could barely get an hour of sleep due to my nightmares; she would lie down right beside me every single night just so I could feel safer. Long after, when I felt better, I would wake up alone and I'd go to my brother's bedroom if I felt too bad to sleep alone. I couldn't go to either of them at that moment, and Draco couldn't be that bad of a choice.

So, I slowly grabbed my wand—which was on my night-table—and whispered a spell to turn off the lights; Draco fully opened his eyes when I did that, and made a movement to get up as he let go of me, but I grabbed him by the sleeve of his pajamas to stop him.

"Won't you stay with me tonight?" I asked in a quiet voice, as if there were someone else in the house that could hear us.

I caught him off guard with my request, and even in the dark I could see the surprise in his expression.

"I don't want to sleep alone tonight." I explained him in a whisper, grateful that the lights were off, so he couldn't see me blushing.

"All right." He answered as he laid down on the bed, his back on the mattress, his face staring at me with a questioning look as I covered his body with a comforter.

"It's freezing." I explained him, making sure he'd understand I wanted him to stay. Then, I lay next to him under the covers, looking at him in the eyes under the moonlight that came from the large windows of my room.

"I don't know how am I supposed to sleep now." He told me, as uneasy as he looked.

I sighed and turned my back to him, a little disappointed, a little upset. "Go to your room if you want, I don't mind."

I was expecting him to get up and leave, but instead, I felt him getting closer to my body and gently hugging me from behind, I felt his forehead on the nape of my neck and his breath tickling me as he spoke: "I could get used to this, though."

I smiled to myself as I turned all of my body to face him, his arm still wrapped around me, I lowered my body so I could use his chest as a pillow. Neither of us said anything else that night, he drifted off to sleep soon enough, and I remained silent as I listened to the gentle beating of his heart and the whisper that was his breathing.

It was very nice indeed to have him around; I couldn't have my brother every single day of my life, much less every single night. Nor my mother.

I didn't feel guilty about having him with me, I didn't want to believe I was using him to feel safer. I just allowed myself to feel well in his embrace, and after a long hour or perhaps hours, I fell asleep as well.

No nightmares haunted my dreams on that second try, I didn't dream anything at all actually. And, when I woke up in the morning, my first sight were his eyes staring back at mine.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

"I was just wondering if you'd yell at me for being here."

"Why would I do that? I asked you to stay."

"That's the thing, I wasn't sure if you were on your right mind when you asked."

"I was!"—I told him, a little upset—"I was scared. I used to go to Blaise when I had a bad dream, but..." I shrugged and didn't finish my sentence.

"I can sleep with you whenever you want."—He smirked as he got up of the bed—"I hope you'll get used to it."

He then left the room without a second glance, luckily, because I was blushing at his back.

It wasn't long after he shut the door that I went to my private bathroom to take a long and relaxing shower. After finishing and dressing, I found Draco in the living room, playing a beautiful piano sonata. It was something he did once in a while, he was very talented and enjoyed playing. I had heard a wide variety of music coming from that piano, some sad, some happy, some gloomy, but they were always beautiful to listen to.

I sat silently on a couch to watch him as he played, he made no sign of acknowledging I was there until I clapped my hands, which happened right after he finished his playing. He turned on his seat and smiled at me.

"You're a good audience."

"It's always nice to have you playing."—I returned his smile with one of my own and then added: "Do you care to have lunch with my family today?"

"Two days in a row?"

"I meant my mother and my brother, in England, you know."

"You are not upset with her anymore?"

"I'll always be upset with her in some level, but I can't reject her forever." I shrugged, he stared at me with a questioning look.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to; we can make up an excuse."

"I don't think we have any more excuses left."—In fact, we had made up plenty in the past four weeks.—"I'd better get over it already anyway."

Not only did I mean I wanted to forgive my mother, but also that I wanted to forget about Ron. I still felt both sad and angry towards him, it was hard not to dwell on him, but I had grown increasingly used to his absence in my life over the past weeks.

Draco never commented when I showed distress over Ron, it appeared to be something that made him feel uneasy; I guessed he did have his reasons. But he was there for me, just like Blaise, and I ended up appreciating that fact.

Of course, he was nothing like Blaise, meaning he was no brother to me, despite his protectiveness. He wasn't caring, he was almost even more respectful than he would be of a stranger.

Our lives were pretty simple, our daily routine consisted of getting up, going to our classes, and having lunch and/or dinner together most days. Most days after his classes, he'd go to England to check on his family corporation, and he'd arrive pretty late for dinner. It wasn't hard living with him since we'd barely see each other throughout the day. On weekends, however, we would spend long hours together studying in the library; I was surprised at first by how much he'd focous on his reading, remembering what a hard time studying used to be when I was at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron around.

And there wasn't a whole week that would go by without us having to visit my family for either dinner or lunch. Draco behaved surprisingly well, even if his mother wasn't joining us.

Narcissa Malfoy hadn't adjusted to life in Italy, so she'd basically go from one country to another, spending most of her time in London, where she still held society events Draco and I could seldomly avoid.

It was right after one of his mother's balls that, I think, that I began having feelings for him.

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A/N: Part III, exclusively told from Hermione's POV for now (I am not sure if I'll write from Draco's POV). This part of the story is where we finnaly get to read something more dramionish. I hope you'll like it. This chapter is terribly short, I know, but there wasn't much more to write in here, and I am sure you'll like next chapter better. I am glad to announce I am having a bit of an inspiration these days and I currently have two more chapters writen, so you can keep your hopes up.

What do you expecto to read next? I'm curious. :P Review and spill out your hearts! I love everyone who reviews, I greatly appreciate it, even if it's just criticisms or a "update soon!".


	23. Together we Stand

It happened right after one of his mother's dinner parties. I never liked high society reunions, they were filled with hundreds of snobbish people, many of them "former" death eaters or the wives and children of them. Basically, I had no one good to talk to; the funny thing was everyone in there saw me as one of them, and here I felt like a fish out of water. The elder women especially adored me despite being so old fashioned and strict; they could spend the whole evening talking of what a delightful young daughter-in-law Narcissa Malfoy had, probably tired after so many years of having only Draco to flatter in front of her.

The middle aged women, those of my mother's age, would waste no time in flattering me to my face, they seemed to enjoy giving me advice about my marriage, noticing it wasn't as fruitful as it should be. I could barely stand listening to their chatter about their own marriage experience of 20 to 30 years ago. Most people in there knew (or at least assumed) our marriage had been arranged, but no one dared comment on that tiny little fact, at least not directly. Yet, I knew they'd refer to that, and they knew I'd realize that.

"I married my dear Jonathan when I was 16, we all go through it, dear. He was so very handsome back then, that really helped the cause," Mrs. Rottemberg told me, a martini always in one hand while the other constantly made gestures to emphasize her statements. Her red satin and silk dress was charmed so it would glitter with every move she made. "We had three beautiful children, you see, with his good looks and my own...well, it wasn't hard to find them suitable partners."

Being (forced to be) around so many noisy women made me envy Draco, who was supposed to be with the men, talking either about business or quidditch. He never seemed to have a bad time at those parties and reunions, he probably was quite used to it, but he surely didn't have to put up with all of the marital advice and offspring storytelling I had to bear.

And there was also the fact that my mother would always be invited, and she'd always attend Narcissa's reunions (just like Narcissa attended hers). Well, she'd made sure to comment on me to just everyone she met, making sure I was especially noticed, dragging a lot of attention towards me, which ultimately caused me ask her to have a word in private with her in order to plead with her to stop and subsequently accept her plea for forgiveness. At least we weren't supposed to sit at the same tables every time, usually she'd be with people her age, while Draco and I usually sat with couples our age. I can't tell if it's worse to sit with former Slytherin classmates or their parents, but at least my former classmates acted as if I had been in Slytherin like Draco instead of mistreating me for being a Gryffindor. The girls even pretended to like me and want to be my friends, saying we should gather along sometime and, thankfully, never actually making an effort to do so.

"And it turned out I was two months along..." All of the girls my age seemed to be eager to have children, being so very young at 18 to 20 years old; I thought 22 was a more reasonable age to start thinking about having children, but getting pregnant at 18? Some girls had gotten pregnant right after finishing Hogwarts; I could hardly understand how could they have only one goal in life, which was having babies. They appeared to think of it as a duty. Sometimes, spending time around them in old fashioned saloons of either the Malfoy or the Zabini Manor, dressed in expensive and old fashioned dresses as well, I'd imagine I was in the XVIII or XIX century, in a time where it would have made more sense to listen to an 18 year old girl talking about being a mother.

Even if they were victims of their upbringing, how could they not see there was more to life than bearing their husbands' heirs? How could they not have bigger expectations in life than being stay at home moms when they had enough money to buy an island? Sometimes, when I explained to them that I wanted to have a career and work instead of having babies, I'd get such puzzled looks that I had to leave their sides for a moment just to make sure I had not traveled back in time.

In truth, it was a matter I didn't want to dwell much upon, having children. I'd always wanted one or two, but when I made those plans I was with Ron; I would wonder if at least one of our children would inherit his red hair or his blue eyes, whether I'd have boys or girls, if Ron wanted a family as big as his (which I didn't). Life, however, doesn't usually turn out the way one expects and I ended up married to Draco Malfoy, who I no longer hated. I had even grown to care about him, but I couldn't quite say I was in love with him; love took much longer.

So, listening to a bunch of women talking about having babies obviously made me think about a matter I wanted to avoid, making me dread Narcissa's and my own mother's gatherings to the point that I once cried out of nerves, making Draco beg his mother not to make us go.

The thing is, I had had a rough day, I had barely had any sleep and went through a really tough exam at University (which I completed perfectly). I was worn out when I got back home, and right after congratulating me, Draco tells me his mother was expecting us that night at 8 pm for her much anticipated winter ball; she had even sent me a new dress and jewelry to wear.

"No, Draco! I can't! It's been only a week since the last one and I need at least a whole month to recover!"

"What was the matter with the last one? You looked good enough."

"But I wasn't! I was miserable! I cannot stand six hours of chatting with dozens of pregnant girls, hundreds of young mothers and tons of grown up women who think it's their duty to give me advice for my marriage! Tell your mother I will not go."

Draco, seeing how tears started to stream down my eyes and how exasperated I was, complied and spent a whole hour begging his mother to let that one go; I realized it was a very hard job for him and thanked him a great deal for that; I really appreciated that soft side of him, especially when he chose my mental stability over his mother's tantrums.

Getting off the hook for that ball meant there was no way we could avoid the dinner party that was coming next. Luckily enough, we were seated at a table with people all ages, allowing us to choose with whom we'd talk, and I chose to take part in Draco's business talk; the other women found it very amusing that I took interest in such things at such a young age and, seeing that they couldn't keep up with my knowledge, decided to gradually leave me out of their own conversation.

I think the only things I like about dinner parties are the food and dancing either with my brother (who was rarely seen at Narcissa's reunions, always having perfectly good excuses not to attend, such as "I don't have a partner and all the girls my age are taken") or Draco; the best part though, was leaving.

Despite how terribly late it was, that night I left with a triumphant smile upon my face and, when we got home, I let myself fall onto a couch and said, "I lived through it, I made it."

Draco looked more worn out than I did, though.

"You look like you've been talked into having offspring all night long," I commented from my spot on a large sofa on the living room of our Italian house as I saw him taking his coat off.

"I've been talked about that since I was 13 years old; you could say I am quite used to it by now."

I had imagined something of the sort, after all, he was part of all of that people whose only thought was procreating and having more and more money; in fact, he had the duty to have at least one male heir to go on with the family name. So I wondered why he had always been so respectful of me, never trying to talk me into it, never even implying we'd talk about it someday, unlike his own mother who already saw us having children as a fact.

"Why haven't you ever tried to... I mean, you've never asked me about... you know, having a child."—I shrugged and looked at him in the eyes—"Do you even want to?"

"I should, shouldn't I?"—He sighed and let himself fall onto a couch in front of me.—"What would you say if I asked you to bear me a son?"—He smirked tiredly and ironically at the same time.—"You'd either slap me or laugh at me."

I felt my cheeks quickly turning red after hearing that. "No... of course not!"—I exclaimed, a bit upset at his implying—"I guess I'd just say no."

"Right. So, if I already know the answer, why bother?"

"Because it's like a duty to you, isn't it? You are the last Malfoy left."

"Don't remind me of that please,"—he said with a long sigh, looking now at the ceiling and slowly closing his eyes as he let his back rest comfortably against the couch.—"It's not my duty, at least not for me; duties should be chosen, freely chosen, don't you think? As far as I am concerned, I have no one nor nothing that can force to fulfill that family request, this is the one thing that no one can make me do."

"So... you don't want to be a father?"

My question made him open his eyes and slowly turn his head to look at me in the eye, a wary and curious expression upon his face.

"I should be a father, like most men my age."—I was about to tell him he wasn't answering my question, but he went on: "I should have offspring and go on with the family name and honor.. but..."—he breathed in deeply before continuing—"But I don't really see the point, especially if my wife is not willing to cooperate."

"You are still not answering my question, Draco. Do you or do you not want to be a father?"

"I guess not. Having a child would mean having more responsibility, a whole new life to take care of, someone to raise, someone who'd look up on me, and what would he see? What would he become? I don't really believe it would be wise to take part on that. So, unless you someday realize you want to have a child I won't even bother talking you into it."

I was struck by the sincerity and the stunning logic of his words; I realized then he wasn't like all the other boys and girls I'd met at those annoying gatherings; he didn't say it directly with words, but one could assumed that being a father for him actually meant something more than going on with the family name; he didn't want to be like the other men who left the children in the care of their wives and nannies and only minded their business. He wanted to mean something to his own offspring, he wanted to be a good father and take part in his heirs' lives. And he was scared, scared because he thought he couldn't be a good one.

"All right."—I said after a long pause, making him suspicious once again with my wary demeanor and slight blushing of my cheeks.—"I have another question."

"What is it?" He asked warily.

"You don't seem to be willing to have children, you don't really care about being the last Malfoy on earth"--I thought I saw him cringe after saying that—"I get that, and I find it pretty impressive, but what surprises me the most is that you... you don't..."—I was determined to ask but couldn't help stuttering and blushing harder—"You don't seem to have the same demands that most men would."

Draco blushed as well after hearing that, understanding what I meant, but his blushing was out of fury rather than shame. "I do have the same demands any men has, _Granger_."—He looked at me with a deadly stare—"But I happen to be extremely respectful of you, as you might have noticed."

"Is that because... is that because I am not appealing to you?" It was something I had been dwelling with for some time now; I came to think he didn't find me pretty at all, or that I was so repulsive that he wouldn't even consider touching me, but I'd always get confusing messages with him, thinking sometimes that he wanted me and others that he didn't. It was weird indeed that he could be so very respectful of me, although I didn't quite give him much of a choice, but he could have tried something.

"Are you serious?"

I nodded my head slowly, expectant.

"Of all the people my parents could have paired me up with, you gotta be the craziest."

I was speechless at his words, not fully understanding where he was going with that, and he kept on talking.

"You have been _appealing_ to me ever since I first saw you."

"Are _you_ serious?" It was my turn to ask that question, and I arched an eyebrow to emphasize my skepticism.

"Honest."—He nodded his head in a serious manner.—"I always thought you were pretty, I was very upset after finding out you were muggleborn, even though I couldn't have had you if you had been a pureblood...which you actually turned out to be, and you even turned out to be my fiancé. Life can be pretty ironic, huh?"

"Honestly, Malfoy? With the bushy hair, huge teeth and the pile of books I carried around?"

"You were one of a kind, I always liked that."

"Wow" was all I could mutter after hearing such an unexpected declaration. Never in a million years would I have thought Draco Malfoy fancied me when we were children.

"So, answering your question more specifically if you want: I do want you, I'm just waiting for you to want me as well. Because I know someday you will, what other choice would you have?"

I blushed once again, a little upset this time by his implying. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Why is that? Because I can be patient?"

"Not only that, but also because you have never tried to force yourself onto me in any way, you have barely implied something once or twice, but you have never actually tried... and you are a man, and you are patient? It's just... weird."

"I'd never force you to do something you don't want, Hermione."—He looked concerned as he said that, believing I thought the worst of him.—"Do you really think that low about me?"

"No! Of course not! I was just trying to understand how can you be so patient and all..."

"It's quite simple actually."—He shrugged—"What you don't know can't harm you."

"You mean you've never...?"

"No."—He arched an eyebrow, implying it was pretty obvious.—"Have you?"

"No."—I shook my head and looked down at my hands.—"I never got that far."

Draco chuckled slightly after hearing that and looked at me with an amused expression on his face. "We have the most perfect medieval marriage, don't you think? We are both celibate and married against our will and better judgment."

"The funniest thing is..."—I started warily—"is that you find it amusing."

"It is amusing, I wasn't happy thinking Weasley had _had_ my wife."

I blushed harder at that and decided to avert my gaze from his and look away to a wall.

"Now that you've so surreptitiously dropped the subject..."

"No."

"All right, just checking. But you know, whenever you feel like it, you know where to find me. Good night."

I didn't follow him when he left, only acknowledging his leaving the room after hearing the door being shut. I was left alone then to think and reconsider everything I thought about my husband, who had turned out to be more of a kind human being that I had thought he could be.

And then I thought that perhaps we did indeed have a chance to be happy with one another.

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A/N: Well, we are slowly getting there, aren't we? How did you like this chapter? It was an awkward situation that had to be written at some point.

I loved the response last chapter had: 27 reviews! Thank you so much! That's amazing, simple the most reviewed chapter of all of my stories. I am updating earlier thanks to you all who reviewed. I don't know what to expect of this one now, but I greatly encourage you to try out this new little green review button and write me whatever you like. :)

PS: Someone told me she/he was willing to translate this story to Chinese, I am still waiting for the PM, so I tell you here it's a very exciting idea! I only hope you'll translate the reviews for me to read. ;)


	24. Divided we Fall

Conversing with him could always amaze me; there was always something new and unexpected about him that I could find out, even though he had certain limits. He certainly wasn't an open book, but sometimes he'd leave something out on the surface for me to decipher and my conclusions would make me grow closer to him.

His absence could even get on my nerves now and then; I noticed we'd see each other lesss and less on the weekdays. After a month and a half he started missing either lunch or dinner, some days even both, claiming he was too busy. He had, indeed, taken on more work with his family company, which he managed along with his mother.

So, every now and then I'd find myself completely alone sitting on a table for a meal. After having been surrounded by lots of people for so long, I found it pretty strange and I couldn't get used to it, so I started visiting my family in Italy more often. But staying with them for meals made me think how would life be at Malfoy Manor once I moved back there, for which I had only a few weeks left. I most certainly would not have the time to get to Italy twice a day or whenever I felt lonely, and it was most likely that Draco would be having to devote more and more time to work.

I didn't want to live alone in that Mannor, and I wasn't willing to be left aside. When I approached Draco about that subject, however, things turned out rather unexpectedly.

"I don't want to spend 80% of my free time alone in Malfoy Manor, Draco, I won't stand it. I won't get to see my family so often, I won't even have the elves to talk to since your mother has forbidden them to be around me if it's not for an emergency, and you've started the path of a workaholic."—I stated, looking at him straight in the eyes—"I can spend mornings at class, I can spend the whole afternoon reading and studying, but..."

"I understand."—He interrupted me, his voice pretty serious, his look determined and yet indifferent—"You don't have to move back with me if you don't want to. Forget our deal, you can stay wherever you'd like."

He sounded sincere and determined, he was actually offering me freedom, something I forgot I had put on his hands since I had grown used to living with him. Mixed feelings overcame me: on one hand I thought he just didn't care anymore and since what I actually wanted to ask of him was to spend more time with me and less at work, I found his words kind of hurtful; but on the other hand, I thought, by the look on his eyes, that perhaps he only wanted to please me, to do what he thought was best for me.

"I don't mind if you want to stay in this house, I bought it for you anyway."

I didn't answer him, I didn't give him any explanations, all I did was move closer to him and stand right in front of him as I kissed him forcefully on the lips. This time, though, he kissed me back and didn't even try to let go. I felt his soft lips kissing me just as roughly as I had started, his kiss was needy, his hands made their way over my back and my own locked themselves around his neck. I soon felt his breath in my mouth and we somehow ended up lying over a sofa, snogging pasionately in a way we had never done. And it actually felt really good--I didn't feel guilty, I didn't think of Ron, I just allowed myself to get lost in his kiss, in his embrace, in his caressing; and he seemed to get lost into mine as well. We didn't get farther than kissing though, I am not sure I would have allowed it, but what interrupted our kiss was my mother in law's arrival. The sofa we were on was right in front of the fireplace, which happened to be the spot where she arrived.

Narcissa Malfoy was greeted with the sight of her son on top of me, kissing me pasionately. He jumped off of me abruptly when he heard her come in.

"Mother!" He said awkardly with his ragged breath, his face had a reddish blush and he was having a hard time catching his breath and sported a terrified expression upon his face.

His mother looked unamused as usual, and spoke in a very severe voice when she stepped out of the fireplace. "It's utterly encouraging to see you are getting along that well, my dears, however, I would advise you to do that in a bedroom, on a bed if possible. Or else, I'll find myself forced to throw away some furniture."

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, we weren't really..."—She arched an eyebrow at me, I was stuttering and looked even more ashamed than Draco—"We were just kissing."

"Still, it's better on a bedroom, dear. Remember, you are supposed to be a lady."

"It was my fault, mother. We'll be more careful next time."

I decided to leave then and avoid them both for the rest of the day locking myself in my room. I wondered what would Draco be thinking, what impression had I given him? Would he have thought I wanted him? That I liked him? That I loved him? Was he left wanting more? Or did he think I only kissed him because I was grateful for my getting out of the deal?

After a couple of hours of lying alone on my bed with my thoughts, I heard him playing a sonata on the piano; I knew it was him because I recognized his way of playing, the time between notes, the passion he put everytime his fingers touched a key, and the rough mood that he was in. In hopes of finding him alone, I left my room and made my way down the stairs, through the hall and then to the living room.

He stopped playing when he saw me entering the living room.

"You didn't have to stop."

"Oh, I did." He contradicted me, his eyes sparkling, revealing that his meaning was something entirely different.

"I wish you'd have gone on," I smiled shyly, now following his train of thought. "If only there had not been interruptions."

He didn't answer me and, instead, began playing once again, this time something softer. I sat beside him on the piano, making him stop again. He turned his head to look at me, questioning me with his eyes.

"I didn't mean I wanted to leave you, I don't mind living with you. What I do mind is spending so much time all by myself when you could be here and keep me company."

"Since when do you care to have my company?"

"I don't know"—I shrugged—"I'm just so used to it now that it's weird not to have you over for dinner to talk, or seeing you study near me in the library. I guess you don't have time to feel lonely, do you?"

"Not really."

"Well, I do. And you haven't even finished your career and you are already a workaholic."

"I am sure you'll be one some day, too."

"It's a possibility. Especially if I have nothing better to do."

"I wouldn't expect you to believe there's something else to life besides studying and working."

"Why do you think I kissed you then?"

"Because I am terribly hot and you couldn't keep it to yourself any longer?"

"You are hot?"—I looked at him with feigned curiosity and shock—"I'd never noticed before," I mocked playfully.

That made him laugh and I smirked, chuckling.

"I kissed you because I saw something good in you other than your looks."

He suddenly looked dead serious, he averted his gaze from mine and then made a move to get up and leave my side.

"What's the matter, Draco?" I asked, utterly confused, there was nothing in that phrase of mine that could have offended him.

"I am not that good, you shouldn't get your hopes up."

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. Just forget about that."

And just like that he left the room to leave me wondering what was going on with him. I wasn't willing to be left out like that though, so I got up and followed him. I found him on the stairs, probably on his way to his room.

"Draco..."

"I know you believe otherwise, but I seriously don't need a talk right now."

"Just tell me if I did something to upset you."

"No, you didn't do anything to upset me; I am not mad at you."

"Why can't we be fine then?"—I asked with a pitiful voice, which seemed to make him reconsider his behaviour.—"Just a few hours ago I thought we had taken a step forward instead of one back; wasn't that what you wanted? Isn't that good for us?"

He was silent for a moment, staring pensievely at me. He took a deep breath before answering. "What if what you think is good is actually ...bad?"

"How can it be bad? We are married, all we have is one another, and when I try to make things work you—"

"That's not what I meant."—He interrupted me.—"I simply meant you shouldn't believe I am a good person. I don't want you to be disappointed some day."

"I believe I know exactly what to expect of you, Draco. And I also know you are good, even if you don't what to show it, you have a good soul."

"And I know myself better, so I'd advise you against believing that. I am no saint."

"I know you aren't, I am not perfect either, Draco. But I accept you either way."

"Why is that?"

"Because you accept me just the way I am, too and, as I told you before, I know you are a good person. You are not perfect, like every other human being in the world, but you can be good and you are good."

I stepped closer to him and slowly caressed his cheek, the look on his face was unreadable.

"I don't think I am good enough for you."

"Am I good enough for you? I can't think of those things right now; I don't care, actually. What matters is this moment, Draco, right now. We might not love each other, we might as well be just friends, perhaps we just like each other, but the best of it all is that we don't hate one another, we can live together, we can cooperate and coexist..."

"You are too good for me, Hermione."—He spoke sincerely and just as serious as he had been only moments ago—"And I am sorry you've ended up with me, you deserve better."

"You don't usually think so low of yourself, Draco. What's going on?"

He then sighed and slowly lifted up a hand to brush my cheek and then my hair. "I always think this way, I don't usually show it, but it's what I see and believe." After a short moment of silence, he dropped his hand and used the other one to roll up one of his sleeves, showing a huge scar on his arm; the scar that was left after the death of Lord Voldermort.

"This will always remind me of it, and it should remind you as well."

I carefully caressed the scar on his arm with one finger, averting my gaze from his eyes. "You didn't have a choice."

"I've never had a choice."

"And that's why I can forgive you for that, Draco."—I then looked up at his face, showing him the honesty of my words with my eyes.

"You don't understand."

"Explain it to me then. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am trying to make you understand you shouldn't overestimate me, Hermione. Don't kiss me because you think I am a good person, because I am not, at least not the kind you want to believe I am. I am your husband, and I'll always want what's best for you, but that's my duty. And if that means you have to live ten thousand miles away from me, I'll be fine with it as long as it makes you happy."

It was pretty contradictory, saying he wasn't a good person and yet wanting to make me happy; explaining my happiness for him was a duty, as if he was supposed to please me in any way I wanted. Something he had not been willing to do when we got married half a year ago. It was both interesting and troubling seeing him behave that way, because I had to asume he was hiding something, something that was troubling him, making him feel guilty, making him look for redemption.

"And... what if... what if I want to make you happy as well?" I asked curiously. I couldn't tell what his problem was, and I had realized he wasn't exactly willing to tell me. Besides, in truth, I didn't want him to feel miserable.

"You don't want that, Hermione. I am not the one you would have chosen to make happy, I am not the one you want, and I'll never be."—His tone grew harsher word by word, but he never once made an attempt to scare me.—"Don't... don't let any of his confuse you. This is just a matter of habit, you have grown used to be around me, you have accepted me the way I am, I have accepted you the way you are, but..."—He then paused to sigh, and his voice became soft once again—"But we are not in love, you've only attempted to kiss me to try it out, and I kiss you back because I like doing so. We can go even further and, still, you won't love me. Not like this, just for the sake of trying."

It was something very weird, but sometimes it happened; he had opened up to me, he had shared his feelings, he had said almost the very same things that had gone through my mind over and over again. And, ironically enough, that made me like him; that made me like him enough to kiss him—and not just to give it a shot like he though, but because in truth, in that very same moment, I liked him. I liked him because he had tried to show me his true self, because he had shared something intimate with me, because he had advised me against something he thought it was bad from me, because he wanted what was best for me, because he respected me and accepted me despite all I had put him through.

"No, Draco."—I shook my head slowly and smiled—"I do want you to be happy, and I'll love you for the sake of love itself, because I can love you, and you can love me as well."

He stared at me silently with a skeptical look upon his face. At that very same moment, another kiss would have looked good after saying something like that, but the circumstances didn't seem to make it right, so I only reached for one of his hands and held it tightly.

"What is this, Hermione? Am I supposed to be your replacement for Weasley now?"

"No, of course not."—I said with a bit of anger on my voice—"Look, Draco, right now I consider you my friend, and I love you as a friend. I care for you and I want what's best for you as well, just like you've said about me."—I then squeezed his hand gently and gave him an encouraging smile.—"I don't mean to rush things, I am just saying I like you, and we can be happy. Don't you think so as well? You asked me to believe months ago, both after and before we got married. You asked me to believe in you and I didn't want to do it, but right now I do believe in you, and I also believe in myself."

"Are you happy when you are with me?" Skepticism filled his voice and wariness was evident in his eyes as he questioned me.

"I am happy when you open up to me, I am happy when you share your feelings with me and when you try to make me smile."—I grabbed his other hand and took one step closer to him.—"I am also happy when you play the piano, when you join me at those parties and reunions, even those you are not obligated to attend, and I am happy when you want to comfort me and when I see you smile."

My words, apparently, left him confused and troubled enough not to speak for a long minute in which I wondered what in the world could be going through his mind. What I wanted the most right then, at that moment, was for him to smile and kiss me just like I wanted to kiss him. I had just confessed to him that I did like him after all, shouldn't he respond in a positive manner like any other boy in that particular situation? But no, not Draco, he was just as different from others as I was. One of a kind, like he had put it when referring to me.

And, in fact, he didn't kiss me. He let go of my hands and hugged me tenderly. Although I was a little startled by his reaction, I returned the hug and said nothing else. We just stood there for a long while, feeling one another's heartbeat and breathing as we both wondered different things. I can't say what was going through his mind, I thought I saw guilt in his eyes; but what I know is I was left wondering when would he be the one to kiss me first and I the one to kiss him back.

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A/N: I love all the reviews this story is getting! (keep them coming). Thank you so much to all of those wonderful readers who take 20 seconds of their time to review; it's much better to read an "update soon" than to see someone new has added the story to his/her favourites (which I am also grateful for, but it would be much more awesome if everyone who has this story in his/her favourites reviewed too).

So, does this chapter make any sense to you? They are growing closer and closer, I know, but the story won't finish there, we still have some other matters to deal with, which makes me think that this part of the story might even be just as long or longer than part II.


	25. Of Passion and Forgiveness

The day I had dreaded the most had come: the anniversary of my parents' death. It was on this very same day that I had been too sick for my parents to keep me in our house, they decided to take me to a hospital, and not long after that they were both dead.

I didn't want to wake up that day, but like every single day, I did it. I woke early, at 4:20 am, as a matter of fact. I had been drinking a dreamless potion to sleep through the night for the few past weeks, so it wasn't a bad dream that woke me, but the strong blowing of the wind outside and a strong feeling of angst that wouldn't allow me to go back to sleep.

I saw the clock on my night table and I counted the hours. I imagined exactly one year ago, my parents would have gotten into the car in about 2 more hours, at 6 am in the morning, dying probably before 7 am.

Why did they have to die? I wondered over again, just like I had been doing for the past year. They were good people, they had done no wrong to anyone, they didn't deserve to have such a awful destiny. They had been happy people with happy lives, they helped others, they lived and believed in peace.

I cried silently on my pillow for a few minutes as I went through those thoughts on my mind. I had been tired of crying for long, but right then, on that very same day, it didn't seem wrong to do so.

After washing up my face in my private bathroom, I decided to go downstairs. I wasn't going back to sleep and I most certainly didn't want to disturb Draco's sleep.

Hours later he woke up and found me in the living room, absently staring at the snow field that our gardens had become.

Draco was already all smartly dressed up and ready to go out.

"Good morning." I greeted him.—"Where are you going so early?"

"_We_ are going to your family's graveyard."

I was surprised that he remembered, and also that he was good and ready to go at 9 am in the morning while I was sitting on a couch looking like a wreck. I sighed lamely, I wasn't completely sure what to do; I wanted to go, but at the same time I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. I didn't want to see my mother in there, I didn't want to listen to my grandfather's speech in commemoration of my dad, his son; I didn't want to have everyone checking on me, waiting for me to fall to the floor and cry my heart out. I wanted to face my father's grave alone, I wanted to be alone with my pain and my memories, I didn't want to bear my family's support. But I knew I'd also feel guilty if I didn't go.

So I went, and everyone I thought would be there was, including my mother and Narcissa. I found it pretty offensive that they were there, since had it not been for them, my parents could still be alive. It was something rather confusing to think of, actually, just to think how things would have turned out for me if those women hadn't completed such a deadly deal.

If my mother hadn't put me under a curse to marry Draco, my father most possibly wouldn't have ever left her. I would have been raised as a pureblood, I would have lived in a huge manor, I would have grown up along with my brother, I might have even had more siblings. I might have even ended up in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, perhaps I wouldn't have even met Harry and Ron. And, perhaps most importantly, I would have never met my mom, the woman my father replaced my birth mother with. I didn't know what to think of that, in truth it had been wonderful to have been raised by a woman like her, she was the sweetest and the kindest, and I'd always think of her as my mom, even if she wasn't my real mother.

But loving her as I did, I couldn't think that it was worth it to know her, to have her as my mom, if that meant that she had to die. Because if my father hadn't left my birth mother, he wouldn't have possibly met her, and thus, me neither. And of all of the people involved in the situation, she most certainly was the one who had nothing to do with it, the one who couldn't see what was coming, the most innocent and defenseless of them all, because she had been a muggle.

So who was I to blame? My father for leaving my birth mother and involving an innocent woman I grew to love like no other in a situation in which she couldn't defend herself? Or my mother for starting all of that? In truth, none of them had managed the situation well. My birth mother for obvious reasons, my father because he could have chosen other ways, he could have used magic in defense—which he didn't in order not to be found—he could have accepted the fact that there was no way out after sixteen years of investigating, he could have chosen to give up and allow my real mother to find me in order to protect us all. But he was even more stubborn than I, and his stubbornness left him over there, six feet underground.

The thing is, I couldn't actually blame any of them, because I also knew that they hadn't meant any wrong. My mother due to her upbringing, my father due to his. In the end, even though they did it all wrong, they actually did what they thought was best for me.

That's the reason I allowed my mother to hold me as I listened to my grandfather's speech, even though I resented her. That's why I also accepted Narcissa's condolences, although I wasn't entirely sure her words matched her feelings.

I stood over there in the graveyard alone long after they were all gone; all my family—including Narcissa and Draco—left for lunch, but I didn't want to join them and they understood me. I needed a moment, I needed to be alone with my feelings.

My mom lay next to my father in the Zabini graveyard, it had been a tough battle to win, because she had been a muggle and no muggle had ever been in the Zabini graveyard. It was a huge place with hundreds and hundreds of graves, and my mom's was not supposed to be there, because not only she was not a Zabini, but she also was a muggle. I plead that she had been my dad's true companion in life, that she had been the one who had raised me and loved me as my mother, and that she deserved to lie next to him for forever, even if that place was supposed to be for his wife, my birth mother.

It was a very tough battle to win, but at the end my grandparents accepted my petition, and they concluded my birth mother would have a place in the graveyard next to Blaise's grave. It was something rather creepy, but they already had saved spaces for all Zabini men and wives alive. I didn't even want to see those graves, it was awful to think one day someone I loved would be there.

I found it pretty peaceful to be there, actually so much so that I sat there in front of my parents' graves for hours, just thinking about them, remembering them. Going through my best memories of them. As time passed by, I began feeling better. Not that the sorrow was gone, not that I felt satisfied, but I somehow felt the pain leaving and I could someday soon have peace.

It was around 3 pm in the afternoon that Draco decided it was time to fetch me. I was only aware of his presence when I felt his hand upon my shoulder.

"Hermione, it's 23 Fº out here and it's been hours..."

"Yeah, I'd better get going."—I realized then I didn't feel my legs nor my feet. I turned my neck very slowly to look at him from down there.—"I think I need help."

He, very gently, helped me up and held me by the waist so I could use his body as a support to walk. He apparated us to our house where the warmness of a chimney welcomed me. Draco helped me take my coat off and I gladly sat in front of the fire. There was a cup of hot chocolate and some cookies served on the coffee table in front of the sofa I was sitting on.

"How are you feeling?" He asked me as he sat next to me.

I took a moment to answer, staring into the fire rather than at him. "I can't feel fine, but I don't feel awful either."—I paused to sip from my cup and then went on.—"I didn't think it would help me so much to be there and listen to my grandfather and see their graves... you know."

He said nothing and instead we stood in a comfortable silence. After long minutes of staring into the fire, I spoke again. "I don't think I'll ever quit missing them and feeling sorry about their deaths, I don't think I'll get over their passing away, but I feel I can go on with my life."

"You can." He agreed with me, nodding his head to emphasize it.

I then turned my head to stare at him and smiled weakly. "Thanks for going with me, Draco. Now I feel guilty I didn't accompany to your father's funeral."

"Trust me, it was better that you weren't there."

I was afraid to ask, fearing the answer I would get.

"I am sorry."—I stared deeply into his eyes, my voice was pleading.—"I am really sorry for what happened, I should have..."

"Hermione..."—He interrupted me before I could finish my sentence—"None of this was our fault, but our parents'. At least on my side of the family these kind of arrangements are most common, they all knew what they were getting themselves into...but your father, of course, that never meant for any of this to happen."

"But still, Draco, I made the very same mistake my father did. I didn't want to admit what I had on my hands, I didn't want to recognize what would happen, I wanted to believe so badly there could be a way out that I became blind and even ended up believing it, and because of that, because of my stubbornness..."

"No, Hermione."—He interrupted me again, in such a cool and determined demeanor that didn't even seem accurate with the situation—"I don't blame you, so you really shouldn't blame yourself. We could all have acted differently, we could all have chosen better paths, and we all make mistakes... but this thing they got us into was too big, and we were—we still are, actually—only teenagers."

He spoke words of wisdom, surprising me once again.

"Will you forgive me, Draco? Will you ever forgive me for not agreeing sooner?"

Instead of answering me with words, he answered me with a kiss. He leaned in closer to me and kissed me softly on the lips. Of all of our few kisses, I had never felt such a tender touch coming from him, he was usually rough and needy, but not this time, this time it was sweet and gentle, and I liked it.

I closed my eyes as I slowly opened my lips a little bit, and I soon felt his hand on the back of my head, caressing my hair, his other hand soon found itself on my back, and my own on his back.

Our kiss, this time however, only lasted for a few seconds, but it was sweet, it was tender, it was lovely. I opened my eyes when he pulled away, and I saw him staring back at me, not with lust in his eyes, not with regret, not with agony, anger or hatred, but with what I wanted to interpret as love.

I almost asked him right then if he loved me, but on second thought I knew he didn't. He had only showed me he liked me, and I was sure at that moment that it was true, I could see it in his eyes, it wasn't an act. He liked me and somehow, I liked him back.

"It wasn't your fault." He told me after a long pause in which we had only been staring into each other's eyes.

It was not long after that sentence that I kissed him once again, this time with passion, and he answered me back with as much passion, a contrast with the kiss we had shared before, now this one was needy on both parties involved.

And it was on that very same day that after half a year of being wed, we consummated our marriage.

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A/N: Extremely short, I know; but was it any good?

I know what many of you might be wondering, and the answer is no. This fic is T rated and I wont write more than neccesary for your better comprehension of what happened.

Thank you so much for reviewing to you all, last chapter was the most reviewed so far; let us see how this one turns out (let me know ;) ).

PS: By the way, someone reviewed pointing out something about my chapter's titles, and she/he's right, some of them are Muse songs, others Oasis', and I recommend them all. ;)

About the age of the characters (I've been asked about that too), I believe Hermione would be about 20 or 21 and Draco 19 or 20, I am not sure right now, you should check the first chapters to make sure.

PS2: Oh, I made a poll!! Check it on my profile. The question is not the best I could come up with, but I couldn't make it any longer._ (I am still hoping to get a beta actually). _


	26. What is Love?

Passion always leads to trouble, I learned, no matter if it's related to anger, joy, or lust.

I don't know whether it was the smartest thing to do, but we did it. We were young and stupid, like some would say, although we were old enough. But we were reckless. I know for sure I wasn't in my right mind at the moment.

Although I do know that I enjoyed it; we both enjoyed it. It was pretty nice in a way; Draco was very gentle, and we were both passionate, knowing and not knowing at the same time what we were getting ourselves into.

I woke up hours later in his room, he was right next to me, sleeping soundly. Consciousness didn't greet me right at first, in fact, I thought everything had been a dream, but when I saw his naked torso under the covers of his bed, I panicked.

I repressed a high pitched scream, covering my mouth with a hand and waking him up in the same motion. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was my face struck with horror. His sleepy face was soon changed to one of confusion.

"What is it?" He asked as he slowly sat up on the bed, letting the comforter fall to reveal his bare chest. I was too terrified to answer, and all I did was hurry out of the bed, carefully wrapping myself up with a sheet and run out of the room.

I clumsily went to my own room, tripping on my own feet twice. The first thing I did when I got there was look for my agenda, praying all the time my timing was right. I acted just as disheveled as I looked as I searched in dozens of drawers for where the bloody thing was; it was my panic that didn't let me think right, because I found it in the very same place I always kept it.

As I went through the pages, Draco opened the door to my room, not even bothering to knock. He positioned himself with his back against the door and looked at me with an arched eyebrow, he was apparently only wearing a robe.

I ignored him as I sighed in relief. I was right.

"I can't be pregnant. It's not my time to ovulate." I explained to him, because he had an expectant look upon his face.

"Oh, that was it." He seemed relieved as well and then smirked haughtily.

"What do you mean "_that was it"_? What did you think I was so scared about?"

"I thought you had regretted it, that's all."

I found myself blushing then, because, in truth, I hadn't even dwelled on that much, on what we'd done. Despite feeling a little sore, I'd liked it, but since I felt like a complete idiot for letting my emotions control my actions instead of my brain, I couldn't answer him at first.

"And I also thought we were past the blushing. Seriously, Hermione, it was about time, don't you think? We would have done it some day."

I didn't take well to his words, I found it pretty rude of him to say something like that, even if it could have been true. Besides, why didn't he even care that I could have gotten pregnant?

"Is that why you... is that why we did it? Because we _had to_ do it someday?" I asked him with anger in my voice; my attitude didn't startle him and he looked dead serious as he replied to me.

"We did it because we wanted to. I didn't force you, no one forced us."

He didn't get it, he didn't understand what I was asking of him. I wanted to hear him say it had meant something to him, something more than a duty as he seemed to believe it was when he said it had been something we had to do.

And of course he wanted to do it, he was a man after all. And if I had gotten pregnant, that would have been great news to him, because that would have meant he fulfilled one of his duties, even if he didn't care all that much about it as he had told me just not too long ago.

I felt distressed all of the sudden, feeling stupid then for believing in something that had been no more than an illusion He didn't love me, he had just wanted me; he apparently cared for me, he wanted me to be happy, I understood that, but it didn't seem—at that moment—to be much more to it. Yet I had allowed myself to believe otherwise in a moment of passion, in a moment while I wasn't thinking straight. But at the same time, hadn't it been the same for me? I wasn't in love with him either, I had only wanted him... it was a moment of passion; in the end it would seem it had been the same for the both of us. But that didn't make me feel any better.

I turned my back to him and dried a tear off my face as I asked him to get out. I didn't feel his leaving soon enough; he was still there when I turned my back again.

"What's your problem?" He asked me again, looking dead serious in the same spot he was just before, his voice a little bit severe, his eyes piercing.

"My problem..."—I started slowly, with a bit of anger in my voice.—"Is that we made a mistake."—I paused for a moment, but kept going on a second thought before he could reply.—"No. _I_ made a mistake, you just acted like you were supposed to. You are just like every other high society pureblood boy, man or whatever it is you are."

He could sense the agony behind my words and the anger quickly spreading through all of my being. He didn't look startled though, nor did he show any sort of regret, condolence or sensitivity, just like it was usual for him, just what I didn't like of him.

"What did you expect?"—He asked after a short pause, still piercing me with his eyes but keeping a calm tone of voice.—"I am what I am, I am who I am." He stepped closer to me in a quick motion in order to face me from a closer spot. There was only a desk separating us when he stopped.—"You've known this since day one."

It was true, everything he said was true, and it only added more to the aching of my whole being. I knew he was a high society pureblood who only cared about business and keeping his high pure blood status, I knew he thought of me as a duty more than like a friend, even if deep inside he wanted to love me; I knew he had acted out of lust, just like I had done, and I knew he didn't regret it. However, I couldn't help feeling badly about it.

"Why does everything has to be so hard, Draco?" I asked in a pleading voice, not actually looking at him in the face anymore, not even displaying any more anger in my voice.

"You are making it hard, Hermione. If only you could accept who you are..."

"What's that supposed to me mean?" I asked him then looking at him in the face, now piercing him with my eyes.

"I mean you still think you are not where you belong; but you are."

"Am I?" I asked in a whisper to myself. What he said was the truth; despite the fact that I loved my family, I could hardly think of myself as a Zabini; and I seriously couldn't accept people calling me a Malfoy. I always felt out of place when I attended to high society events, I didn't feel as one of them, but in fact I was... and all of the others saw me as such, despite the fact most of them probably hated me, or at least used to.

"You don't have to feel bad about this..."—He told me trying to gently assure me of what he thought.—"It's only natural; it's what every one else does, it is what was supposed to happen."

In a way, he was speaking the truth again. It was what everyone else did, it was only natural... but was it supposed to happen? Did we have to do it only because every other married couple—in love or not—did it? Were lust and procreation just as worthy means as love? I couldn't think that way, even if I was one of them, I couldn't simply sleep with my husband because I was supposed to, I couldn't bear him offspring because it was what was expected of me. It was hard enough already acting as if we loved each other, messing with our minds both in public and in private. Or were we?

"So what do you want of me now? Are we friends with benefits?"—I asked lamely, kind of devastated by my own words and thoughts.—"Not too long ago I told you I considered you my friend... now we've crossed the line... but that what was supposed to happen..." I looked down to the floor, feeling extremely uncomfortable and, at the same time, sorry for myself, because, in fact, this was not the life I wanted. I didn't want to be with him because I was supposed to, I wanted to be with him because I loved him, because I could be in love him... but his upbringing was making it really hard for me. All of this turning of events was just another obstacle in our relationship instead of being one step forward.

My train of thought prevented me from realizing he was gradually getting closer to me. I soon felt his hand caressing my hair, and I realized he was just a few inches away from me; I had been to self absorbed in my own thoughts to realize his approaching.

"Why do you regret it?"

"Because you don't love me."

He took a long moment to answer, probably trying to decide what was best to say in that situation. The hand that had been caressing my hair soon fall to his side and he sighed exasperatedly.

"I do love you."

I stared at him skeptically then, demonstrating disbelief with all of my facial expressions. "Do you even know what love is?" I asked him in a challenging manner.

"Love is the feeling of wanting to be with someone forever, caring for her, feeling affection and attraction towards her... I feel that way about you; isn't that what love is?"

"You are only saying you like me and you love me as a friend, or want me as a lover. That's not what I want for my life, Draco..."—I sighed and slowly shook my head—"...nor for yours."

"What is love then?"

"Love is the attachment that results from deeply appreciating another's goodness."—I shrugged as I said that.—"It's a matter of values, a matter of focusing on the good in another person and sharing your emotions with him... It's a matter of care and respect and giving... and also, it's a matter of choice. We didn't choose to get married; but can we even choose to love each other?" I didn't even know the answer myself at that point.

"I care for you, I respect you, I have given you everything you've ever asked of me, and I can see the good in you and I appreciate it. How come I don't love you then?"

"But that's not something you've chosen; it's a duty to you to respect me, to care for me, to please me and such. You never chose any of that, it's what's been imposed to you by your upbringing."

"I am choosing now." He said, completely determined, with a serious gesture upon his face.

"Are you?"—I asked tiredly, with a great amount of skepticism in my voice and feeling rather down.—"Don't fool yourself, Draco. You might believe what you are saying, but only because you consider me one of your kind."

"You are one of my kind."

"Yet again, that's where you are wrong. I might have been born in your same social class, I might have been raised as one of your kind in the first years of my life... but most of my life I was raised as a muggle, and later on I considered myself a muggle-born... and as such, I can't bare the thought of separating people for their blood as if we were all animals, you know? I am a pureblood, but I couldn't care less about that."—I paused to take a breath and stared silently into his eyes for a brief moment. I noticed he was growing just as tired as I was.—"It's as if your kind considered us breeding horses, they marry us to get a fruitful union that will lead to a better economical status and such things, and we are supposed to have children to go on with the never ending cycle of life and keep our pureblood lines..."

"I agree with that; we most certainly are like breeding horses."—He said with a sardonic smile, finding it more funny than horrible.—"But I know were you are going, and you are wrong."

"How so?"

"I don't love you because you are one of my kind; I love you because you are you; because you are yourself; because you are _one_ of a kind to me."

"No."—I shook my head, defying his words, contradicting him.—"You wouldn't say that if I were a muggle born, or a squib... or a just a muggle. What if I didn't have any magic in my at all? Would you even look at me then?"

"You'd have magic in you even if you were a muggle."

He kissed me then, tenderly on the lips before I could say anything back. It was soft, sweet and I liked it. I felt confused, but I liked it anyway. It didn't last long, I didn't reject it, I didn't reject him; but I couldn't exactly place what was going through my mind.

I loved what he had just said, I loved the demeanor he had just showed but, still, I had my doubts regarding everything I had said, about loving another person, about values. It was true that he respected me, he had proven it so on many occasions; it was also true that he cared about me, he most certainly felt attracted towards me—physically at least; he would usually give me anything I wanted... but on the values subject... I didn't know what to think of that. We most certainly didn't have the same values, even if he said he liked me because I was one of a kind to him, we didn't share the same beliefs, we didn't have a common plan for our living, for our future. I could see the good in him though, and I guess he could see the good in me as well... but was that enough? Did that mean I was in love with him? Did that mean I could be in love? That everything between us was fine? That everything we did was good? That he, in fact, loved me as he claimed?

"You might be one of a kind..."—He started saying slowly and pensively after breaking the kiss.—"...but you are also of my kind; we are humans, Hermione. We most certainly are of the same kind."

I understood what he meant then, and that allowed me to answer a couple of questions of my own. I could most certainly love him if he thought that way, if he could see that there was more to people than blood and money. I knew he was good, I knew he could be good, but I wasn't sure about was if he could be good beyond his social class... meaning he could see the world the way I saw it. And what he had just said, if it was true, proved that he indeed could.

"Why do you care so much about blood purity then?" I asked on a second thought, I knew the answer to that question, but I just couldn't understand why he cared all that much about that... What if we were all half blood? What was so terrible about that if we

were all people in the end?

"Can you imagine a world without magic?"—He asked simply, and then answered his own question before I could nod my head twice—"Of course you can, you lived in one. Well, I didn't. And I most certainly don't want one. Blood purity ensures that magic will go on from generation to generation and that we, wizards and witches, will keep on existing; that our world will keep on existing."

"Muggles can have magical children too though, just like purebloods can have squibs."

"Yes, and that only proves my point. Muggles have magical children because there was, at some point, a wizard or a witch on the family genealogical tree. Meaning that our genes, our magical genes are recessive. Let's take your case, assuming you were a muggle-born, you might have had an ancestor that was a wizard like a hundred years ago, that's like four generations apart; so, if wizards mingle with muggles, instead of creating more wizards, they'll create more muggles. Squibs, on the other hand, are simply a genetical error, a malformation of some sort."

I didn't like his point of view despite the fact that I understood it; and I also agreed with him about another thing--I didn't want magic to disappear. But that didn't mean he was completely right about the recessive magical gene matter.

It was a matter of values, as I had said earlier; and his explanation seemed—despite the fact that I didn't share his thoughts about it—to make it easier for me to accept him, just like he accepted me. But I still needed him to prove to me that he could make an improvement.

"Nothing you are saying has been proven, Draco. I know many people who are the product of both a magical and a non magical person. The recessive gene you are talking about might be indeed real for some people, but not for all of us. Just like a wizard can have a muggle procreating with another muggle, two purebloods can have a squib, and squibs aren't malformations... they are people who simply didn't get that magical gene. I believe it's like the Spanish influenza; some people had it and they survived it, many others didn't. We are the descendants of the survivors of that disease, we are genetically stronger than those who died from it; therefore... those wizards and witches who have children with muggles and those children turn out to be muggles... well, they had the recessive gene, while many others had a dominant one and made many wizards and witches out of their relationships with muggles."

"That hasn't been proven either."—He explained in a pensive manner.—"But, who knows, you might be just as right as I am."—He then smirked and spoke with a playful tone of voice.—"We should make an experiment. If we have seven boys and they are all wizards, then my theory will be right."

"How would that prove anything?"—I asked with an arched eyebrow.—"And why would we have seven boys?"

"I want a quidditch team."—He answered more seriously than I had expected.—"_The Malfoys_."

I was torn between laughing and stepping away in fear.—"You've got to be kidding."

"Just think about it: I'd start training them from a very early age, I'll teach them how to fly. When they are old enough we'll send them to a training school to improve their skills and then when they get to Hogwarts they'll win every tournament for Slytherin; and after Hogwarts we'd have seven children who can already get by without our family money."

It was possibly the most ridiculous idea I had ever heard. I never took the skeptical look off of my face. "And they'd have to be boys? What if we have girls?"

"I am hoping for boys only. Girls shouldn't play quidditch, it's too dangerous."

I didn't know if he was saying that out of machoism or just protectiveness. Perhaps he thought of himself as a very over-protective father for a girl. I thought then that it would be funny indeed to see Draco Malfoy dealing with three or four little daughters. I could imagine the funniest situations, and his pale blond hair soon turning white out of stress.

I pondered that night—alone in my own room—what kind of father would he be? It wasn't the first time I did it, but at that moment I considered that we could indeed have children. Not seven like he had claimed—I was hoping it had been a joke—but perhaps two or three, like I had always wanted before my life with Draco had started.

I found myself having a very hard time sleeping that night, thinking over and over again about that. Curiously enough, having that chat with Draco had made me think more about having a child than all of the women who annoyed me with the subject during those dreadful society events; he had actually made me consider it... especially after what we had done. And I was sure of one thing: our conversation wasn't over.

It wasn't too late when I knocked his bedroom door. He got up to answer it and let me in, eyeing me in a curious manner.

"You want to sleep here tonight?" He asked, kind of hopefully, kind of skeptically.

I had only gone there to talk, but seeing I was wearing only my nightdress and a robe upon it, he could have thought otherwise.

"I just need something of you."

"What is it?" He asked cautiously.

"Proof... I need you to prove me you can value life just the way I do."

He looked dead serious and didn't hesitate before answering: "All right."

Right after saying that short sentence, he stepped away from me and entered his wardrobe. It only took him a moment to come back to face me again, he had socks on one hand and a white piece of paper on the other.

"House-elves." He called smoothly and soon enough the three elves that worked on the house appeared by his side and bowed in silence.

Surprisingly enough, he gave them each a sock. "You are all free now. Do whatever you want with your lives; there are 50 galleons on each sock for you to survive until you find a new way of living."

No one could tell who were more surprised: the elves or me. The poor creatures started weeping, two of them bowed and had their heads literally touching the floor, while the other kneeled in front of us and profusely thanked us. Only that one left, while the other two were crying their hearts out, pleading for mercy... they didn't want to leave.

"You can start a new life... you have free will now... that's good! How can you not see?" I asked worriedly.

"We have always lived to serve the Malfoy name."

"It's what we are."

They explained in tears. I was too taken back by their words, they felt hurt, they felt forsaken. They felt like objects with a purpose that had been taken away from them.

"Here."—I then looked up at Draco, who was giving me the white sheet of paper that he had been holding. It was a white check.

"Write in whatever sum you need to make something for them. You can make a refuge or shelter of some sort for these creatures. You can teach them what you think their lives should be like."

Amidst the cries and pleas of those poor creatures, I realized the effect of genuine, other-oriented giving is profound. It allows you into another person's world and opens you up to receiving his goodness. It allows you to love the other person... and I was thinking right at that moment that I coul be falling in love with him. But, at the same time, I realized I had given him nothing in return. And giving leads to love... so... how could he love me then? How could he ever be in love with me? Because that's what I actually wanted, what I needed of him... I wanted him to be in love with me.

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**N/A:** A bit confusing, I guess. Well, it's supposed to be a confusing situation, for Hermione at least. Next chapter will be much better on that matter, I believe I'll rewrite it (I don't even have the betaed version yet anyway). So, did you like it? did you hate it? were you dissapointed? what were you expecting?


	27. Of Acceptance and Commitment

Once the festivities were over we moved back to Malfoy Mannor. Not that I was thrilled about living there—it was a house I could hardly come to like—but I wanted to see the bright side: I was going because I wanted to, because I chose to. By moving back with him to the Malfoy residence I wanted to show him that I wanted to be with him, especially considering Draco himself told me I was off the deal.

Whilst my family in Italy wasn't too happy about my moving back to the UK, my mother and brother were absolutely overjoyed, and so was Harry. It was weird not spending the holidays with Ron and Harry after doing it for so many years, especially considering Ron was nowhere to be found. A fact that didn't make my day when I was supposed to be happy—spending Christmas and new year with all my family in Italy, including Draco and his mother. But I was starting a new phase of my life with Draco, and I wasn't going to let him know I was worried about Ron.

And somehow, even though Ron could not be a threat to him for so many reasons, Draco couldn't bear to hear his name.

"I was with Harry the other day." I commented to my brother one afternoon we were strolling around a park near my new residence.

Blaise was absolutely nonchalant about Harry, as he didn't mind showing, but either way he always picked up interest on everything I did and thus, unlike Draco, he would follow any subject that I would come up with.

"Did you have a good time with him?"

"Yeah, I always do."

"But...?"

And, as if we had lived our whole lives together, he knew exactly when I had something different on my mind from what I was actually telling, or when I wanted to explain things further. He also knew he didn't need to push too hard for me to spill out my mind for him.

"He's worried about Ron... he didn't show up for the holidays... which is ludicrous! It's been more than a month, I totally understand that he doesn't want to see me anymore. But that doesn't mean he can't spend Christmas with his family! Or at least send them a bloody postcard, you know."

For only a moment, for only a glance, I thought I saw a sign of discomfort on Blaise's face, but when he spoke the apparent uneasiness was soon gone. "You are worried about him."

"Of course I am." I replied. I was aware of my brother's discomfort and the topic was not his favorite idea for a chat. But he was the only person besides Harry that I could share my worries about Ron with.

"He's my friend... I don't think what happened between us should have changed that... even if it's not the same for him."

I sighed sadly."I care about him, I might not be in love with him any longer, but I care deeply about him."

My last sentence seemed to cheer him up a little bit as he showed a triumphant smile, if only for a few seconds; and his tone was content—although skeptical somehow—when he spoke again. "You are not in love with him?"

Although it was clearly a question, it appeared to come out more like an statement. I understood he wanted what was best for me and, for him, that meant that being in love with Ron would do me no good. And I believed the very same thing but, as I constantly reminded myself, love is not something that you can choose to feel or not to feel.

"No... I don't think I am." I answered uncertainly, and proceeded to wander.

"I love him, as a friend, as I have always loved him. I care about him, and I wish nothing else but happiness for him... but I no longer feel the need to be with him, romantically. I mean, I do wish, however, that he would come back to me as a friend; just like we used to be not too long ago."

"And are you currently in love with someone else?" he asked in a playful tone, acting as if he was a schoolboy looking for some gossip.

Had that been the case, had we both been school-kids leading simple lives with not much more than gossip for implications, I would have probably found myself blushing in front of him, stuttering, not really knowing what to say... or how to evade the question.

But we weren't that young, we weren't shallow and, despite there was playfulness on his voice, I knew he was asking me something rather serious, and I didn't know myself the answer to that simple question.

"I do love Draco." I explained carefully, looking at my brother in the eyes. "But how can I know if I am in love with him?"

Blaise, who seemed rather glad that the conversation had taken another course, half smirked at me and placed an arm around my shoulder in a protective and affectionate manner.—"I haven't been in love many times, but it's not something rational. You just know it when you feel it..."

"... and you can't quite describe it." I finished for him.

He shook his head and smiled, probably remembering something that had happened to him. "Can you describe what you feel for him?"

"I can."—I said shrugging.—"I guess that means I am not quite in love with him."

"But you have your doubts."

I nodded silently and rested my head upon the left side of his chest. I didn't feel uncomfortable having that discussion with my brother, it was one I had with myself often when I had time to be alone.

After all, my first experience at being in love was with Viktor Krum, or so I thought at that moment. I liked him, but mostly because he had liked me, and no one had ever showed me that. We were better off as friends though, because in truth I wasn't in love with him. It was his infatuation towards me was what had called my attention. It was what that made me think I loved him back. Yet, I realized that I didn't have any real romantic feelings towards him.

Right after Viktor, Ron came along. In fact I'd like to say we shared a beautiful relationship. It took much to long to start than it should have. We seemed to have a future, but that future never came. We had our ups and downs, like every other couple, but at the end we turned out to be better off as friends. My relationship with him, though, is the only one in which I can tell for sure that I was in love with him—even if it was for a brief period of time—and it was someone I chose; I chose to be with him, and he chose to be with me. That—I believe—it's what made it love.

Draco was a completely different matter. It took me an entire year to start thinking—I wasn't even sure about what we were or that I was in love with him. At first I only cared for him (something that took a long time to develop itself), later on I could say we sort of became friends, and much later, when we definitely crossed the limits of friendship. I couldn't sort my feelings straight. I wasn't sure, something had changed between us and it was good, but I couldn't tell for sure our feelings were real.

Shouldn't one be certain about feeling something as deep as being in love? Draco would be my third experience, but being in an entirely different situation, with no place for choices, having only him and being able to be with him only, made me wonder if my feelings were right. If both of our feelings were right... if it actually made any sense that I could fall in love with him after half a year of marriage, after almost a year of denial, after consummating our marriage and arguing about that and other important facts such as love and values...

It was very hard for me to conclude sometimes, that it didn't matter if he wasn't in love with me, that it didn't matter if everything we did, everything we shared wasn't out of love but simply out of passion and need. Because I wanted it to matter, I wanted everything to mean something.

And thus, I made up my mind that if we were married and we were going to stay married for ever and ever, I had to make sure our relationship developed in a good way. In other words, I was definitely willing to put aside my regards, my worries and my fears, and just think of him as someone I loved, as someone I wanted to be with.

I'd do my part, just like he had made his.

My first decision was to share a bedroom with him, and thus spend every night by his side. He was surprised to say the least, but he didn't complain even once. And, actually, neither had anything to complain about, we both enjoyed spending our nights together. Sometimes I'd snuggle against him, sometimes he'd place kisses around my neck and we'd get lost into each other... it was a nice habit we did every now and then.

One morning, later on January, I woke up first and groggily stared at his peaceful facial expression as he slept. He seemed happy, I thought, and that made me glad, because I wanted him to be happy, whether he was my friend, my lover or the one. He deserved it, just like I did.

As consciousness greeted me further, I moved closer to him on the bed and planted a soft kiss on his lips. He opened his eyes then and eyed me in a questioning manner.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"I don't mind."—he answered right after a long yawn.—"What did you mean to do then?" He smirked playfully and sat to face me from another position; he appeared to be completely awake then, in just a matter of seconds.

I laughed out loud at the thought and sat in front of him, carefully covering the upper half of my body with the sheet. "I meant to start the day with a kiss, that's all. It will be our routine from now on."

"Sounds good." He kissed me forcefully on the lips and tackled me down in the same motion. I responded to his kiss, falling deeply into it, closing my eyes and tangling my fingers into his silky hair as he pressed his body against mine. I only stopped him because I needed to breathe.

"That's enough for a morning greeting." I said with a laugh. "We've got to go."

We started going to college together that semester, it was what we had agreed on, although Draco told me I could choose whatever college I wanted, I didn't mind going to the same one as he did; it didn't mean we had to see each other all the time because we were studying different subjects, we didn't even attend classes in the same buildings. Since we only had a morning schedule, we only saw each other when we had to go in and when we had to go out.

My first day at my new college was rather different from the first I had in Italy, mostly because the group had already started half a year ago and we all spoke English and English only. It wasn't a large group, so everyone got to know me, and thus I became the classical "new girl"; the one everyone wants to know because it's something new and shiny.

Everyone was nice, just like my former classmates; some recognized me for being friends with Harry, others for being married to Draco, really few because I had attended Hogwarts. But there was always someone who didn't; and if that someone was a boy who just happened to be interested in me... well, it could get rather embarrassing.

"So, how about going out after class?" asked Gerard Courel as he walked me to a lecture room, where we'd have the last subject of the day.

"All of us?" I questioned, hoping that he meant going out as a group, saving me from saying I was married.

"No, just you and me."

It wasn't the first time that happened; in Italy I had had more than one proposition of the sort; at that time, however, I was rather enraged about being married to Draco Malfoy. And at those moments I didn't even say I was married, mostly I'd find an excuse saying I was seeing someone hoping that the other would think I had a boyfriend.

I never understood why they didn't get a clue by simply looking at my left hand: I had a pretty shiny golden band with a huge stone inlaid. Boys probably didn't believe I was married, perhaps they simply thought it was just another ring on a rich girl's finger; but that was the only ring I ever wore. Men, after all, didn't go directly to look at a woman's left hand, it usually was women that did that.

"I don't think my husband would like that."

I half smiled at his _"Are you kidding me?" _expression. I lifted up my hand to prove my point, showing him the golden ring I had once dreaded.

His sight soon turned from my hand to my flat stomach, and then back at my face. I understood what he was thinking, it was what everybody else thought when I told them I was married—that if they didn't happen to be hight society purebloods who secretly knew about arranged marriages—he simply thought I had to be either crazy or pregnant to be married at my age.

"And no, I am not pregnant." I smiled kindly at him and sighed as I averted my gaze from his. He didn't seem to be a bad boy, he even was good looking and all.

I thought that perhaps, if I wasn't married to my husband, I would probably had accepted his offer, we could have even begin dating... we could even have a future together. It was the very same thing I thought over and over again every time something like that happened, every time a man asked me out.

That time, however, something was different: I did feel a little bit embarrassed about being married—something that people found so odd for my age and that I wasn't angry about it. I wasn't upset because I couldn't date whoever I wanted, I wasn't upset because I was linked to my husband, to Draco, forever…

Perhaps one could say I had found peace. I had come to accept the situation completely, going as far as accepting Draco, all of him, even the parts I didn't like. Just like he had done for me.

I was asurred about that when I found him waiting for me outside my classroom, waiting because we'd both leave together.

I felt happy when I saw him there, knowing he was expecting me, knowing he wanted to be with me. It was something I had just started to notice, but I found it endearing to see him after five hours of being apart.

And, as I kissed him forcefully on the lips choosing to ignore the glances of my classmates as they walked out the classroom. I realized just how happy we could be.

"Will that be a routine too?" He asked playfully as he led me through the halls of the building.

"It could be. Although you don't really have to wait for me every single day, Draco."

"It wasn't long."

"Your daily schedule finishes twenty minutes before my own. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but it isn't fair for you to wait for me."

"I don't mind waiting for you."

I was sure he would wait an eternity if need be. He had shown me many times in the past: he waited for me to agree to our marriage contract, he waited for me to calm down and learn to be civil towards him, he waited for me to consummate our marriage... he always waited for me; that was just one of the things that assured me that he had a good soul, that he was very good indeed: that he waited.

I knew that he would wait forever, even if he run out of patience, even if he got sick and tired a couple of times and decided to threaten me in order to get what he wanted. It wasn't hard to love him if I simply thought about his good side.

It wasn't hard to be happy, smile at him and kiss him every time I saw him. I thought about that, if I thought about how good he had been to me despite my regards concerning our alliance.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked me curiously as he watched me pensively in my dreamland as we walked through the ancient halls of the building.

"I was wondering how many times girls have asked you out since we got married."

Draco was thoughtful for a long minute before answering. "About six or seven I believe, directly at least. I guess others just hinted it when they asked me if my ring meant I was engaged or something."

"They must have gotten rather disappointed when you told them you were married, huh?"

"I guess." He shrugged carelessly.

"Didn't that make you think, Draco?"

"Think what?"

"That if we weren't married we could be seeing about anyone we wanted."

The idea seemed to make him automatically think of Ron, I guessed by the sudden frown on his face, but I wasn't willing to let the conversation take that course.

"What I mean to ask is... didn't you ever felt attracted towards one of those girls who asked you out, realized you would never get to even kiss her, and got upset over it?"

"I'm not like you, Hermione. I don't spend every hour of my life thinking how things could have been, or how they could be. I just happen to believe life has taken its natural course—I know you seriously believe otherwise, but that's just my belief."

Draco simply accepted life in the way it had been presented to him. He was more indifferent and practical. He didn't care about love, or so I had heard, but when it came along he accepted it gracefully. At the same time, he didn't care if I was in love with him or if he was in love with me, because in his point of view, by his upbringing, that really didn't matter; although he was some sort of a rebel on family matters, just like I was. But his rebelliousness didn't mean he wouldn't mind fulfilling what was expected of him regarding his marriage... our marriage.

"You are not answering my question."

He sighed. "No, I've never felt attracted towards anyone but you."

"And now you are just lying." I said. "You can tell me, I won't mind."

He thought about it for a long moment before he answered with a sigh. "Yeah, once or twice I guess when you were living with your family in Italy. But it was of no use to worry over that... so I didn't really care all that much, I guess."

"How was it like for you? Those four months we spent apart."

"I was upset at first, I actually got time to deal with my father's death... and it took me weeks to feel better. I focused on my career mostly, and I began taking part on the company matters along with my mother, so I had my mind rather busy... I had decided to give up by then, but... well, you know what happened next."

"To give up on me?" I asked sheepishly.

"To give up part of my dreams; you could say that includes giving up on you."

"How am I part of your dreams?" I was interested than before, we had never discussed such a thing, something that implied us and a future, a future together.

"Well, I always imagined I'd have a wife and we'd spend our lives together, start a family and all, you know."

"Your dream is starting a family? That's what you want for your life?" I had expected him to say something about money and power and more money.

"You told me you didn't want children weeks ago."

"No". He shook his head determinedly. "I told you I didn't want the responsibility, and that I didn't want to pressure you into having heirs just to fulfill a family duty. I do, however, expect to have children with you some day."

Startled at his confession, I glanced at him questioningly. "And why is that?" I assumed he had changed his mind about fullfiling family duties, or that perhaps that he was determined to go on with the family name or to just make his mother happy.

"Because I love you."

Needless to say, he left me speechless. My heart seemed to skip a beat, and I stared at him wide eyed in surprise. We both stopped walking then. He arched his eyebrows.

It was the second time he said it, actually, the first being simply the outcome—or the intended outcome—of an argument. This time, however, he had meant it in a totally different context... and it was a very special context indeed.

Therefore, my special case, in which I loved my imposed husband but I didn't know if I was in love with him and vice versa, was unusually hard to place. Considering Draco, who had very little experience in such matters—probably even less than myself —I could hardly believe he knew what he was talking about when he said he loved me.

He raked a hand through his hair and asked. "Why can't you believe me?"

"I just don't know... how. How can that be? I've never done anything for you to love me."

The halls of the college were filled with people, some running in one direction or another, others walking calmly to another. They all seemed to be oblivious to what was going on between my husband and I.

"You've just been yourself. That's reason enough."

I could see that he was running short on patience, but that just was the way he was. It didn't mean that he was lying, it was impossible for him to lie when he got upset.

So I ignored his sudden annoyance and reached for his hand to hold and kept on walking alongside him.

"All right."

"All right?" asked Draco.

"Yes, it's all right." I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled kindly at him. He smiled down at me, I knew he could see the glimpse of internal struggling in my eyes. I was thankful that he chose to ignore it. He gave my hand a squeeze and we walked towards the building's entrance.

I was torn between two feelings then- I was happy because he had said something so endearing and confused because I didn't know what I should be feeling and thinking anylonger.

And life, as usual, always takes an unexpected course. A course that I experienced not too long after.

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A/N: Oh, dear, I know, it's been like... a whole month since last update? I am so sorry about that, but, you know, final exams at college, then the festivities, then the fact that I wrote three different plots for this chapter and re-wrote it like six times.... so I could actually cry, I didn't think I was going to make it! But here it is!!!

Now, I must confess: I don't have next chapter writen, but it's sort of planned, and I might as well get on with it right now, but I don't know if I'll be able to post it a week from now, like I used to do with this stories, it depends on my beta. (Thanks to my new beta, by the way, gitgit ;) and thank you all to those who review! I hope they'll keep on doing it despite the awfully long wait!)

By the way, I've got a new poll on my profile, check it out and vote (do your part!)! (Someone voted "Hareton", it would turn out really funny if that was the winner of the poll). It might seem silly, but it's for your future amusement, really.

Oh, happy new year to you all! This is my gift for you, I hope you like it (but if you hate it, you can review telling me so too).


	28. An Approaching Menace

As the lady of Malfoy Manor I apparently had duties, obligations as both Narcissa Malfoy and my mother called them.

One late February evening we were having dinner at Zabini Manor with our mothers. The food was fine, as per usual, the chattering was fairly fine, but after a while of listening to those women's gossiping about people I did not know nor did I care about, I began paying them less and less attention, catching glimpses of my husband—who was sitting right across from me on the table—every now and then: he appeared to be doing just the same as I.

He looked so pale. It was natural, considering his skin colour and the fact that it was winter time, and he had just recovered from a terrible cold—it took him two very strong pepper up potions to get over it, but he worried me nonetheless. Sometimes, when we were alone, I would realize he looked kind of weak and fragile, but the moment he noticed my staring at him, he'd somehow change his facial expression in order to look almost perfect again, displaying a kind smile and inviting me to join him in whatever he was doing or intending to do.

I was suddenly drifted off my thoughts when a single sentence out of my mother's lips caught my ear.

"I am sure Hermione will do wonderful; it will be the event of the year."

I choked on my mashed potatoes. "Excuse me?" I rasped out. "What are you talking about?"

"About your hostess debut, dearest. Were you not listening?" asked Narcissa as she raised a delicate eyebrow.

Not actually caring about my lack of interest for their conversations, I didn't feel embarrassed as they would have liked me to when I answered with a simple negative.

"Not really. Neither did I know I was having a party." I said arching an eyebrow too; I didn't like the whole idea of hosting anything at all. The moment I said that, I noticed the cringe on Mrs. Malfoy's face, the sigh coming out of my mother's mouth, and the subtle tactic Draco was using in order not to participate in the conversation: putting such as much food as he could into his mouth and, at the same time being careful enough not to look bad mannered.

"The correct term would be '_hosting a social event'_, honey." Explained my mother, very carefully, kind of fearful of my possible reaction.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because it's tradition, dear. The usual is hosting your first social event right after your honeymoon, you know, but we had such a complicated year that it simply could not happen. Now it's time for you to make your debut in society."

Everyone in the table knew just how little did I like traditions, and just how eager I was not to follow them. Draco accepted that attitude of mine, and he even appeared to like it most of the time; my mother was kind of resigned to that matter, but tried her best to convince me anyway; Narcissa Malfoy, however, didn't seem to fully acknowledge it, and had a tendency to speak to me about family traditions as if I was just as eager to such things as she was.

"Aren't society debuts supposed to take place when a girl is like seventeen or eighteen? And not even married? I don't think I can apply for that anymore."

It was Narcissa's turn to sigh in exasperation, and my mother's moment to get emotional as she used to when talking about everything I had missed.

"Oh, it is a completely different matter, dear. You are talking about your formal presentation to society, your debut." She sighed dramatically and shook her head.

"I was so eager to introduce you to society myself, just like my mother did to me, one of the oldest family traditions... I remember I started planning your debut even before you were born..."

"Right around the same time you planned my marriage, mother?" I asked sarcastically. She continued as if I hadn't interrupted.

"... but it just couldn't happen, such an awful pity, it would have been so wonderful."

"Yes, she would have been escorted by my sweet Draco, and then they would have presented their engagement."

My mother nodded her head and explained me. "We, in the wizarding world, have the costume of formally announcing engagements at the debutant ball every year. Unlike the working of the muggle world, where young girls are simply presented as single girls ready for commitments, as far as I understand."

My mother continued to ramble on. "But, since you couldn't have that debut dear, what you have left is your first hosting of a society event. You will be able to choose whatever you like, absolutely everything! Even the theme of the event... Isn't that exciting?"

My less than thrilled face appeared to be answer enough for her last question, as they both went on practically ignoring me despite the fact they actually were talking to me.

"Of course we'll help you with whatever doubt or need you might have, sweetie, but all of the work will remain as your own, since all of the credit must be yours and yours only."

"I am sure you'd be more excited about this if you had had your debut, dear; but you'll see just how satisfying it is when you'll have finally accomplished your first event."

"And when all of the papers start talking about it..."

"For weeks! Especially after other events are held and they compare them to yours..."

"...saying how much better it was..."

"...and wondering when the next one will be..."

Just when I was about to ask _what if I didn't want to do it_, Draco chose to intervene before things got bad.

"I am sure you'll do just wonderful, Hermione." He gave me a pleading look.

I understood he didn't want me to start an argument and, although I was in the mood for one, I preferred to follow his lead; not that it would end there.

"We'll talk about that later." I muttered as I eyed Draco. I played around with my dessert.

Both women went on planning my apparently upcoming ball after Draco and I finished our dessert and excused ourselves in order to talk in private.

When we were in a safer place—meaning our mothers couldn't hear us—I reluctantly sat down on a sofa, crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to speak.

"Well? How are you going to convince me to comply with that atrocity?"

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, he sat down next to me. When he spoke, his voice was soft and tired, "You call it an atrocity as if it were a house-elf slaughtering."

"That's just another point to the matter, I am sure the food at those events isn't cooked by humans." I frowned. "And why do you care so much? I thought you didn't like traditions either."

"Some I like, some I dislike." He shrugged. "Most of them I don't mind... but, Hermione, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into by not agreeing to this."

"Sounds familiar." I arched an eyebrow at him. "Now you are going to tell me there's some sort of curse for those women who don't host their first event?"

"No, of course not." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added, "At least not that I know of... What you'd surely be facing is the wrath of my mother, and I must strongly advice you against it."

"I don't fear your mother, Draco."

"I know you don't, but I do; and if you don't agree to this, I'll have to pay for it too somehow."

"How so? You are her favourite person in the world I highly doubt she would do you any harm at all."

"I am not talking about physical harm here, Hermione, I am talking about psychological damage. She won't let us be until this is done, and it won't be nice."

"I am sure it won't be as bad as having to plan a huge party for hundreds of people I don't know nor do I want to know, or people I do know and I completely dislike, and having to stand for an entire hour in the entrance greeting everyone, and then spending the following four to six hours talking to every single guest about how the weather is, asking how their families are doing, and whether the food is good enough for them or not."

"It would only be once, Hermione, come on! Besides, I'd be standing right next to you the whole time, you wouldn't have to endure it alone."

"Of course you would be with me the whole time if I ever agreed to host anything. It's boring enough attending our family's _social events_, but hosting one would be ten times worse." I stated angrily.

Draco didn't seem to run short of patience, compared to my short temper. "We don't go to every single event they invite us to though, except for charity events."

"That's because those are the only ones worth my time."

"You could invite your whole family, and I mean _all _of your relatives." He tried to use a persuasive tone on me, but it wouldn't work.

"You are still not convincing me."

"How can I convince you then?"

"Why do you care so much? It's just a silly tradition."

"Not for my mother."

"I am sure she'll survive if her daughter-in-law doesn't host her own party."

"That's just the thing: she won't, not socially at least; and her social status is her whole life." He sighed and shook his head slowly. "If you don't do it for her, would it be too much of me to ask you to do it for me?"

"Does it mean all that much for you?" I stared deeply into his eyes, the eyes that seemed to have lost the brightness they once had.

"As long as it makes my mother happy." He explained and smiled weakly at me. as he held one of my hands.

"It won't make me happy." I muttered; and soon enough, an idea came to my mind. "But if making her happy makes you happy... then you could help me out."

"With what?"

"With absolutely everything! From picking out the flower arrangements to picking out the frilly pink napkins to the type of music and even to the strategic matching of the guests to their respective tables."

I noticed he was blushing out of embarrassment, and his eyes showing signs of both fear and confusion. When he spoke, is words came out in a stutter, "But... but that's women stuff!"

"Says who?" I crossed my arms over my chest and glared.

"Tradition!"

"I don't care about traditions! I'm so sick of them, and I will not tolerate another imposed _duty_. If you, however, want me to do it, I'll do it for your sake—only once—and only if you cooperate with me."

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for a moment. His reply came out as a sigh of defeat. "All right, but no one must hear about this, and I mean no one. Not my mother, not your mother, nor your brother, _no one at all_."

"Fair enough." I nodded my head and smiled. I crept closer to him and embraced him, he hugged me back and caressed my head; we would have kissed then, had it not been for a coughing fit.

I felt useless whenever that happened, seeing him coughing like that, in the verge of tearing his throat; all I could do was caress his back soothingly.

"I am fine." He said when he could regain his breath again.

"No, you are not," I said. "You've got to see a healer."

"I don't need a healer, a stronger potion will be fine."

But that potion didn't work, neither the one that followed. By the time we were secretly planning my hostess debut together, I could hardly concentrate on the matter at hand. Sometimes even when I studied, I would stare at his tired figure, he looked somehow old, he had dark circles under his eyes, he was lacking an appetite for food, he hardly had the strength to get up every morning. And just recently I began to notice that he sometimes had to support himself on my shoulder whenever we walked together.

I feared then that he was getting depressed, since he had all the symptoms They were the same symptoms I had I had when my parents died.

March was approaching, and my worry about Draco made me practically forget about any other thing or person I could worry about. His mother soon joined me in worry and we both began looking after Draco as if he were a young sick child. I thought it would be better to speak with him before forcing him to see a healer, as both Narcissa and I had intended to do.

And thus, one day I found him in his father study—the mysterious study he usually disappeared to for hours. He had finally allowed me to see the study after a short argument we had. It was an attempt to show me there was nothing that could be of use for me and the Order in there, and giving me free access for whenever I wanted to get in..

He was reading a book behind his father's desk, focused on his reading as a much older person would do. Had he not been looking so ill, I would have found the image very attractive. But him looking pale and sickly troubled me. I tried my best to believe I was just being paranoid, but I couldn't help thinking something was wrong.

"What is it?" He asked when he finally lifted his gaze off the book. He watched me curiously.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked out of curiosity. "There are hundreds of rooms in this manor and you chose to come right here, to this gloomy working place of your father's..."

He shrugged and gave me a small smile. "I guess I like being surrounded by his stuff, these things he held so privately, so carefully... it must sound creepy for you."

"In a way it is, considering the kind of work he used to do in here."

He frowned slightly. "It wasn't all about death eater related duties, he also worked out the family finances here, he managed our enterprises from this very same place, he probably even worked out the plan for our marriage in this room."

"Do you miss him?" I asked out loud, wondering if that could be the reason for his apparent depression.

"Sometimes, I guess." He shrugged again.

"Is that why you've been like this all these past weeks, Draco?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been so sick... you don't seem to be getting any better and you don't even want to see a healer... you almost don't eat, you can hardly sleep at night, you have an aching throat due to those coughing fits you have at least twice a week..." I stared pleadingly into his eyes.

"You are not doing well... Draco... are you depressed? Is that it?"

"It's only a cold, Hermione." He replied tiredly.

"You can't have the same cold for a whole month, Draco! Just tell me the truth, are you depressed or are you not?"

"Apparently I can and no I am not depressed. Why would I be?"

"You have symptoms of a depressed wizard."

"No, I don't" He stated stubbornly.

"Yes, you do!" I shouted flailing my arms. "Draco, you eat as little as possible, you can't sleep two hours straight, you don't even have the strength to touch me anymore, and you stay for long hours in these dark places, just reading your father's old books... And you can't even admit you don't feel fine... What is it then? What is the matter? Is it me?"

"You are being paranoid." He arched an eyebrow at me and got up from his chair, he put his hands over the table in order to support himself, and walked up to me.

"It's not you, it's not me, it's nothing, really. Nothing more than a cold, you've had it too."

Being that close, I noticed he was breathing through his mouth and it was irregular. I furrowed my eyebrows. I didn't like the way things were turning out.

"My cold was nothing compared to yours, we didn't even react in the same way... It only took me one potion to get better; you've already had six or seven. Your health only appears to improve for a few days, and then you are just as ill as you were before, if not worse. What's going on Draco, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" His question came out so weakly.

"Not allowing yourself to get better."

He sighed and went back to his chair, throwing himself over it. "I'll see a healer if that makes you feel better, all right?"

"Good, we were going to force you to go see one tomorrow if you hadn't agreed." I smiled at him getting up from my chair I made my way to him.

"But it will be all right when you are cured of whatever it is you have, Draco." I whispered softly settling onto his lap as I kissed him tenderly on his lips.

I didn't notice the dreadful look he had on his eyes, nor his successful attempt in hiding the book he had been reading from my view as I hugged him tenderly.

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A/N: So sorry for the delay! A lot's being going on. I even forgot to write a comment in here before posting the chapter! So, thank you all for reviewing (I think I didn't even reply to the reviews for the other chapter, sorry about that!) Well, I hope everyone's still reading and will keep on reading what's to come, it won't be easy to write, you know I like drama and this story is a drama, but don't you worry too much, everything happens for a reason (at least in my fic).


	29. Part IV: Falling Apart without You

**Part IV:** **Life is just a mirror, and what you see out there, you must first see inside of you.**

Hermione was sitting on the floor of her nursery at her mother's manor. It was decorated in shades of pink. Plush toys and stuffed animals were lined across a couple of shelves and upon other shelves stood bedtime story books.

In the center of the room was a white fairy-like wooden cot painted with tiny violet flowers splashed all over the rails. There were a couple of paintings on the walls, one of a unicorn, another of a castle, and others of landscapes filled with dozens of flying butterflies. The dressers were full of neatly folded baby clothes, untouched for about eighteen years. There were trunks filled with baby toys, many of them magical, but most she didn't remember.

She would sit there from time to time trying to remember the memories of her childhood, but none would come to her. The few things that were familiar to her, she didn't know if she actually remembered them of just tried to; it could be just her imagination, because she could see herself as a child playing there, wearing those beautiful dresses, sleeping on that abnormally big crib, but it just was a trick of her mind.

That was one of those days she wanted to remember something.

It had been a couple of hours when Blaise found her in that room and he tiptoed. He sat silently next to her, he didn't comfort her instead he did what she did he sat with his knees against his chest and his back against the wall.

It was a while before one of them spoke.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Blaise asked softly. He didn't need to look at her to know she was shrugging, he didn't even need to look at her to know what was going through her mind at that moment, and he understood the answer although it didn't answer his question directly.

"I wish I could remember something." She said in a whisper.

"Will that help you at all?" he asked. "I remember this room, but I don't have any good memories about it to share with you."

"I don't need your memories, I need my own."

He sighed and remained still. "We could always see some photographs; mother has many albums of you in this room."

"I think I've seen them all already." Her answer was short but the painful tone of her voice would only hurt him more if he looked at the pained expression on her face.

"I wish things could be different."

"Don't we all?" He felt her shrug the answer. He looked uncomfortable, it was unusual of him; he'd always seemed to be confident, strong, imperturbable, unruffled… but now he could barely look into her eyes. "I've been wishing for things to be different for more than a year already; but my wishes changed from time to time… it seems my first ones are coming back to haunt me."

"It's not your fault."

"No, it's his fault." She said tiredly, tired of hearing it, tired of thinking it, tired of reasoning it. "But things could have been different, there's always something that could have been done to prevent that. There are a thousand things I could think of… things I could have done."

"You are not the only one."

"Everyone else seems to know better than me though, what's best for me, what I should do, what I shouldn't do… and every step that I take seems to be wrong."

"Mother does know what's better for you, but that doesn't mean you don't. You've just tried to lead your life your way, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Only harming the ones I love."

"That's not true."

"You can say it as many times as you want, but I won't believe it."

"Suit yourself." He sighed. He turned his head and looked at her. It hurt to to look into her eyes, but he had to do it. The visible pain broke his heart.

"Will you tell me what you two talked about that last time?" Her voice was somehow pleading and demanding Blaise to tell her what had gone on in the room that night. But Blaise was strong enough not to give in, even if the sight of her was tearing him apart, even if what he knew was killing him inside.

"I can't tell you yet." was his only answer. Avoiding the conversation was becoming harder and harder as the days went on.

However, Hermione was expecting that answer. So she averted her gaze from his and looked down to the floor, to the soft white carpet her bare feet were resting on.

"I hate it when you say _yet_." said she in a low whisper. "It means you are waiting for something, and whatever that is… whatever that is I know it will be bad."

"Probably." He tiredly recognized and got up. Blaise stared at her with troubled eyes for a moment before speaking again, "Potter is waiting for you."

Hermione lifted her chin and looked at him with questioning eyes. Blaise had been there with her for she didn't know how long, and all that time he knew Harry had come and was waiting for her? Her normal first thought would have been to fight with Blaise and question him of his ill manners towards her friend. But today she found that she didn't have the strength to fight or care.

"Send him in." she said.

Blaise left the room with no other word, and only a couple of minutes later Harry entered it. Hermione didn't stand up to greet him; she only turned her head to face him and gave him a weak smile.

Harry looked worried and uncomfortable. He stood at the entrance for a moment, looking at the room, then looking at her. The sight of his friend didn't allow him to smile back, even though he knew what to expect when he had decided to pay her a visit. Even though he wanted to act in a more cheery manner, just so Hermione could think of something different for a minute or two.

"You can sit…"she started slowly. "Unless you would rather stand there."

His answer came in hurried steps; he walked over to her and sat at the same spot Blaise had occupied only moments before. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. Hermione stared at him wondering if she had to command him to speak, and then she realized what the problem was: it was her.

"I know I must be a mess." She said softly and sighed in the same demeanor. In truth, Hermione didn't care what she looked like these days anymore. She hadn't even bothered trying to comb her hair, or putting on any make up at all, dressing herself in Draco's oversized quidditch jersey and sweats.

"No…" He attempted a lie. "You look… it's just that… you remind me of the time we were camping, trying to escape from Voldermort and his deatheaters…"

It was a subject she didn't like to discuss let alone remember especially at a time when she had bigger things to worry over. "Your eyes are so red… Hermione… how long has it been this time?"

"I don't keep count." said Hermione thoughtfully as she stared out of one of the large windows of her former bedroom. "The sun is setting, so I guess it's been about a day."

"You can't read for 24 hours straight, Hermione, even if you are able to recall everything you read… it's no good for your health."

"I don't care."

"Your…" He was about to say _'obsession'_, but changed his mind, "… research would be much fruitful if you allowed yourself to sleep more than an hour… on a bed… and… have you been eating at all?"

"I've been eating." She said. "Even though I don't really feel like it."

"That's good now if you tried not only to eat, but also to sleep like a normal person…"

"I don't have the time." She interrupted and looked at him desperately. "I don't know how much time I have… nobody knows."

"Look… Hermione, spring is here already, I bet that…"

"That's what he said." She interrupted him again with a trembling voice and tried to suppress the tears that were quickly forming around her eyes. "He said he'd feel better by the time spring came. That the warmer weather and the soft air…" Hermione swiped the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

And Harry decided to change the subject, although he knew it would be of no use, because everything in her life, everything she did, was linked to what was going on with Draco.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Thinking. Sometimes I come here to think… to reorganize my thoughts… my research, my… everything." She sighed. "Usually when I can't keep on reading anymore, even though I want to… my eyes hurt so much and… I can't focus… I can't see the letters straight anymore… I thought that perhaps if I came here for a while and tried to think of something else… then I'd feel better in order to keep reading. But I can't clear my mind… and I most certainly can't remember anything."

"You'd remember what you've been reading if you slept rather than sit here and stare into the nothingness."

"No, I do remember what I have been reading, simply because I know I haven't read anything of use." She shrugged. "What I mean is I don't remember anything about this room."

"That's not unusual."

"But I want to remember." She complained in a tired and pained voice, hugging her legs closer to her for comfort.

Harry hesitated, but he moved just a little closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders, hoping to comfort her as well. She didn't seem to acknowledge his touch, and Harry thought that was a good reaction, because lately she had simply rejected anyone who tried to touch her, even if it was just an attempt to make her feel better.

"I should feel home in here." Hermione explained after a long pause. "I want to feel home… but I can't do it without him."

"That's the reason you haven't been in Malfoy Manor lately." stated Harry.

She nodded her head. "Everything there reminds me of him and I can't focus. I can't even manage to sleep on any room because I don't have him by my side…"

She paused again, "… So I came here in hopes to feel better… just so I could research better."

Harry stared at her thoughtfully. "Are you afraid of sleeping?"

She nodded her head and looked him in the eyes. "I am afraid I'll wake up and someone will tell me… that it's over… that he couldn't do it anymore."

"He's not doing that bad, Hermione. At least that's what I've been told."

Her eyes flashed in anger and pain. "That bad? Harry, he has not been improving at all! No treatment is working, no potion is working, nothing is working. His lungs are shrinking for Merlin's sake!" She was almost screaming at that point. "And it's been a month, a whole month in which he hasn't woken up… and that in Saint Mungos, the best good damn hospital for magical illnesses on this continent!"

He didn't flinch he didn't feel intimidated he only felt worse for her.

"I guess sometimes, unfortunately, it's the fear of losing someone what makes you realize how much you actually love that person." Harry said gently. He glanced over at her, he didn't want his best friend falling apart on him.

"And that fear sometimes prevents you from doing things you'd normally do, like visiting him instead of staying in your house reading."

"You say it as if it wasn't something useful." She complained tiredly.

"I've been researching for him since the problem was discovered… I believe that's more useful than staying by his side every day, staring at him… hoping that he will open his eyes again… like his mother does."

"I am sure you'll find something, Hermione, but not like this. You either drink a sleeping potion and sleep eight hours straight, or you go and visit him, but it has to be tonight. Whatever you choose will be better than staying in this place fearing what's to come next."

"I know." she said painfully.

"What will you do?"

"I don't know… I guess I want to see him… it's been more than a week since I last saw him… but it's so painful to see him laying there… and his mother is always by his side…"

"I can arrange for his mother to leave his side for this night, she needs to sleep on a bed just as much as you do."

"Narcissa never leaves him… only when the healers try new things on him, and only if she really has to."

"She'll leave if you promise to watch him tonight."

"How can you tell?"asked a skeptical Hermione.

"I was well informed by your family. Trust me on this."

Hermione stared thoughtfully at him for a moment, he showed her a weak reassuring smile; she was suspicious.

"My mother sent you here." she accused.

"I came on my own, but we did talk for a while before Blaise told me I could see you. She believes it will do you good to visit him."

"She's probably right…" She shrugged. "Perhaps if I do as she advices me just for this once… something good will come out of it." Hermione sighed again and added, "Not that I expect him to wake up anytime soon."

"Don't loose hope, Hermione."

"Hope is all I have left." She put her hands on the floor to support herself as she got up. It seemed to be a great effort for her, since Harry had to help her by holding her arm to prevent her from falling down.

Both of them left the nursery without saying a word, Hermione leaned on Harry as they walked through the halls of the Manor, making their way to the living room where Hermione's mother and Blaise were waiting.

"She's going." announced Harry.

The older woman smiled in relief and approached her daughter to give her a hug. It had been several days since Hermione had left the house; Hermione's behavior only worried her. The only places she usually went to was the library, a bathroom and her old nursery. Hermione had spent her time diligently working on her never-ending research; even when she was eating, something that didn't last long either, since she eat over her books in the library.

"I'm so glad, my dear." She even smiled gently at Harry. "Thank you so much."

"It's just for tonight." explained a very tired Hermione, "I'll be back in the morning."

"Whatever suits you better, honey." said Hyppolyta as she caressed her daughter's face. "I prepared you a bag with some fresh clothes just in case you want to stay the night."

"Thank you." She said shyly before leaving with Harry.

Blaise stared at Harry resentfully as he led Hermione to the fireplace; he had managed what he Blaise had not accomplished to do in days in just in less than half an hour.

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A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long to update! Don't hate me; you can check my profile whenever you need to know what's going on with me, I usually update it every now and then.

So I decided to make a Part IV, basically because I wanted to write in a third person perspective again, and hopefully this will be the last part of the story.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviews and still follows the fic!


	30. When Nobody is Listening

Narcissa Malfoy didn't look her usual perfectly poised way these days; her hair clung to her limply. She was a beautiful woman and never needed much make up, but nowadays she barely bothered to neither put on lipstick nor cover the shadows beneath her eyes.

Very few people could see her in that state though, since she hardly ever left her son's side. Narcissa had basically turned his hospital room into her own personal suite, where she could watch Draco all day long, and watch the healers experiment with new potions on her son.

That night, when Hermione and Harry arrived, Narcissia hadn't been in a good mood. On one hand, she wanted to scold her daughter- in- law for not visiting often. And on the other hand she didn't want to leave Draco's side; it scared her to death to leave him. What if he awoke? What if his situation worsened?

But Hyppolyta had spoken to her earlier that day and convinced her that it would do her good to spend one night in Malfoy Manor, her home which she had not visited ever since her son had fallen into a state of unconsciousness. It would also be good for Hermione to see him, she had told her, and perhaps even for him, although nobody knew if he could even sense people around him.

She couldn't help feeling a sense of bitterness when thinking about Hermione, ever since Draco had fallen unconscious, she barely ever visited him. It was, as if Draco didn't matter, as if she didn't care enough about him. And Narcissa was sure that he needed her, and that he'd like to have her around, even if he was in an apparent never-ending sleep.

The few times the girl had deigned to go see him, she had barely stayed for a few minutes. She didn't seem to be able to cope with the situation. Perhaps she didn't have hope, but Narcissa couldn't think like that, because she did have hope, she knew her son would wake up and he would get better; hope was all she could hang onto.

When they entered the room, however, Narcissa's anger towards Hermione decreased immensely. Just by looking at her face Narcissa deduced that : Hermione looked dead inside, and her outside wasn't much better. The girl didn't speak when she entered the room, and while at least Harry Potter greeted Narcissa, Hermione only stared in a hypnotized-like state at Draco's sleeping form.

Harry had to shake her just so she could go back to reality.

"Hermione!" —His calling of her name seemed to call her attention and she abruptly turned her head to look at him, his face was urging her to do something, and a moment later she realized she had been ignoring her mother in law ever since they entered the room.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I am sorry. Good Evening." She greeted her lamely, almost scared to look at her face.

"Hermione." started the older woman, attempting to be as soothing as possible. —"You seem so awfully tired, are you sure you want to do this?"

She answered nodding her head, although with an uncertain voice. —"Sure; I brought a couple of books to read."

The girl didn't seem to have understood the implying of Narcissa's question, and the older woman sighed dramatically. It was obvious the girl was pretty much devastated; and thus, Narcissa wondered if it really was the best thing to do to leave her be alone with Draco.

"It's not like anything will happen anyway." she added in a monotone voice.

"Don't say that," reprimanded Narcissa furiously. "The last thing my son needs is for us to loose hope."

"I haven't lost hope," she retorted tiredly. "I would have given up my research a long time ago if I had given up hope."

Narcissa sighed softly and shook her head. —"There's nothing you can find that the healers haven't tried already, darling."

That's what everybody kept telling her, and Harry took that as a chance to intervene before Hermione lost her temper due to hearing that again, which is what happened for usual.

"Hermione, why don't you go take a shower to relax? It will be good for you." —He encouraged showing her the door to the bathroom. —"You have everything you need in your purse. I'll leave your book bag over there on that couch and I'll be gone before you come out, all right?"

The girl, Narcissa noted, seemed to respond to that boy as if she were a robot, it was mechanical. She simply went to the bathroom without muttering a single word. And it appeared to be something her family hadn't managed to do in days. Her daughter- in- law looked far worse than Narcissa herself.

"She reeks.," commented the older woman. "The last time I saw her at least she tried to do her hair; or allowed her mother to do so, I guess."

"She's not doing well, Mrs. Malfoy. I don't know how she remains awake lately; she spends her days reading."

"Yes, Hyppolyta told me she found her countless times asleep on top of a pile of books in her library." she sighed dramatically and added,: "The poor thing thinks she can do better than all of the healers in this hospital."

"Hermione's bright and stubborn; she might end up surprising us all."

"We can only wish; but I'd rather rely on real healers than on that poor obsessed girl."

In the bathroom, Hermione couldn't hear the voices that were right outside; not that she cared at all of what they had to say about her. She already knew, and only by looking at her image in the mirror she could imagine how much of a conversation subject she could be these days. Hermione didn't remember when had been the last time she looked at herself in the mirror, and she didn't like the image that was looking back at her.

'_I look like a homeless person.'_ She thought ironically.

Slowly she undressed herself, noticing her clothes were awfully creased and didn't smell better than they looked. Normally she would have felt shame, but at that point she couldn't care enough. It was odd of her, but her nonchalant attitude was better than her former depressed states of mind; at least now she was trying to work for a greater good instead of feeling bad for herself and hating her life.

Hermione entered the shower and stood there for long minutes feeling the hot water running down her back. She noticed her mother had packed her favorite shampoo and hair conditioner, Hermione found it funny that she remembered which her favorite brand and type were; she also packed her hair lotion so she could comb her curls. Her mother probably thought she'd want to look good for Draco, even though he wasn't going to wake up and see her.

Curiously, not only did she pack a change of clothes for the following day, but also one of her nightgowns and its matching robe. Apparently, she thought Hermione was going to be able to sleep that night.

Hermione only shrugged and put the nightgown on once she was done with her long shower; perhaps she could give it a try. She also put on the hair lotion and—sitting in front of the huge mirror the bathroom had—started forming the curls she used to wear when she was doing better. It felt nice to look better, she realized, and also to feel… fresh, it had been a long time since she had last felt that way. But that didn't mean that she felt precisely well. Slowly, as Hermione combed lock by lock in slow and delicate motions, she realized she was only doing that to delay her going out of that bathroom, she was delaying seeing Draco.

She inhaled deeply when she found herself facing the door, a hand on the knob, an aching in her throat. It was horrible for her having to face him in that state, but she had to, and she was going to. Besides, he would probably like to have her by his side, although she highly doubted he'd be aware of it. The healers had been very clear: he couldn't feel nor hear anything. His vital signs were so poor he had special magical-medical enhancements on his body just so he could keep on breathing. Just so he could remain alive.

Shaking her head in an attempt to chase the bad thoughts away, she opened the door and slowly walked into the room. Harry and Narcissa had left already, she was alone with Draco; she hadn't been alone with him in a long time. Perhaps this was her chance to set things straight, even though it would be useless—useless for him.

So she went over to the couch that was right next to his bed and sat down. Hermione stared at his face for long minutes: he appeared to be sleeping, looking so peaceful, and breathing ever so gently… if only that were true. Hermione noticed he had his arms over the sheets of his bed, and so his hands were available to be held; she had seen Narcissa holding his left hand every single time Hermione had come to visit. _'Would it be of any use? Or would it just hurt more not to feel his response to my touch?' _

Right after thinking that, she was about to speak to him, to ask him to give her a sign if he could hear her, but just the idea was ludicrous, she had to face that once and for all. That, however, wasn't going to prevent her from speaking; Draco might not hear her, but she could hear herself.

"I guess you can't hear me, as they say." she started slowly, looking at his face with dead hope. —"But I must talk to you anyway, even if you are not listening."

She sighed and , slowly, she reached for one of his hands. It was cold and unresponsive, but at least it wasn't cold as a corpse, that was all that mattered now: that he was alive, and that there was a chance for him to live.

"I am sorry I haven't come more often; I guess you really don't care if you can't even realize I am here or not, but I do have a good excuse: I am hoping to find a way to cure you. I know what you'd say; that it is a silly thing to do, that's useless, that I am no doctor and just because I had the best grades at school it doesn't mean I'll be able to find what all the healers of this hospital haven't yet figured out."— She sighed once again.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me, even Harry and Blaise, and those two have always been the ones to support my craziest ideas. Well, I guess it came more as an obligation for Blaise, but Harry… Harry should believe in me, we have been after so much together…"

Hermione paused and silently stared at Draco for a moment, as if waiting for something to happen, at least the usual cringe he used to show whenever Harry Potter was mentioned, but, of course, nothing came.

Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "Anyway, it's been about a month and I haven't found anything useful yet. But I haven't lost hope, and I am not planning to, you must know that. I won't give up on you." she reassured him, squeezing his hand forcefully and gaining no reaction from him.

—"I have read almost every single potions book from both the Malfoy and Zabini Manor. I have even been through dark books your mother allowed me to see in your house… but still, nothing of use for the problem with your lungs. I guess the others are right about that, what's the use of reading hundreds of potions books? I won't find anything the healers don't know already… I guess I sort of know that… and yet I keep trying, is that stupid of me?"

Her question was left unanswered, she hadn't expected less. —"I am guessing your answer would be _'yes'_." —She sighed sadly then and lowered the upper side of her body to lie on the bed, which was big enough not to make physical contact with him.

—"I miss your answers, your rhetorical answers, your sarcasm… your voice, all of you actually…." —Hermione realized talking to him was much easier to handle than she had thought; it hurt to do so, but she'd do it anyway, she could do it.

"--"It's like Harry said to me earlier today… sometimes it takes this to realize how much you love someone… _unfortunately_. And it's not fair, you know? Now I am here spilling my heart out to you and you can't even hear me… but I won't go on with that… not like this. I'll tell you I love you when you wake up, all right?"

She didn't expect an answer, but decided to take Draco's soft breathing as a _yes_. "Because you _will _wake up, and you _will_ get better too." She added with determination all over her voice, hope slowly spreading through her shattered features.

"I still wonder what in the world were you thinking messing a potion up, it's not like you to do such a thing… it never was. But I guess you were under pressure then, and I wasn't any help, was I?" —She commented sadly. .—"That, however, doesn't excuse you from not getting regular check ups as I did after the incident. That was just plain foolish. Just as foolish as making a deadly cheering up potion."

"And was that for you or for me? I still wonder that. For what the investigators could find out, it wasn't just a regular cheering up potion, but a pretty powerful one; they couldn't sort all of the ingredients out, but they know the one that messed it all up: the bellevalia essence. I thought I should start my research with that plant, you know? And I did… of course, the healers knew much more than me and by the time I came here to tell them the counter potions for the poison that kind of plant has, they had already tried them all on you."

"Well, I don't think I am any better than them, but I do believe there's something else in there that I can find that will help you; it's just a feeling, or perhaps it's just that I came to know you better than you think in these past months… and so far, I do have one and only one thing that came out of my research: I know that you didn't learn of that potion from any of the potions books we used at Hogwarts, neither from all of the potions books at Malfoy Manor. And, I didn't think I would and I didn't, but the books of my family Manor were of no use either. Most of the ingredients from a cheering potion were used, that's for sure, but there were traces of other ingredients found that don't match that kind of potion exactly… so, while everyone else has assumed it was a very powerful cheering up potion, I think I should assume that it wasn't or, at least, that if it was a cheering potion, it was of your own doing, not any regular one that you can find in just any book… but how can I fight against something you made? Something I barely have the details of."

"The good thing is I know the ingredients you used; simply because I went back to my parents' house and checked the ingredients that were left myself, plus the ones from the expedient on the case… well, all of them matched, but anyway, some were unusual. Like some scales and essences… I talked about it with my family, even with your mother, but they all came to the same conclusion: you had a whole month before falling into this… _this state_ to tell us anything that could be of relevance. And we all know exactly when your problem started, even you. So, if the ingredients were of any relevance, why not say anything, Draco? _Why_?"

That _Why_ echoed into her mind, it was always the same as she thought things over and over and over again. Why had he not bothered to cooperate at all with the investigation? He admitted to what he had done, he gave details, he presumed what his mistake had been, he explained the potion… he didn't say where he had taken it from though; sometimes, back then when Draco was awake and they were still trying to figure out what was wrong with him, Hermione believed from time to time that he didn't seem to want to get better. But it was a silly idea, why wouldn't he?

At the end, everything seemed to be plagued with _whys_. Questions Hermione had no answers for.

"What a mess you have gotten yourself into, Draco." —Hermione whispered sadly as she slowly moved her other hand to the side of his face and caressed it gently. —"You'd better get out of this" She scolded his unconscious form, " I need you to get out of this… and your mother. She'd be devastated if you gave up the fight… and so would I."

"I'll find something to help you." she said out loud, mostly to reassure herself.

Minutes later she decided to stop staring at Draco's sleeping form and grabbed a couple of books from her bag. They were the last three of the old potions books she had found in Zabini Manor. Thus far, she didn't think it would be of any use to open them up; they were fairly old, so they could be of some use, but she had thought that same with the last two- hundred books she had checked.

Still, she opened the first one and skimmed through the pages swiftly; finding nothing of relevance for the case. The same happened with the second book, and by the time she had started the third one, she had reached her breaking point.: Hermione simply couldn't read anymore, she really did need to sleep.

She glanced at the clock it was now 2:00 am, and then looked over to the bed that the nurses had made up on the other side of the room. It looked warm and cozy, but Hermione doubted it would be of any use to lay over there. Averting her gaze from that bed, she looked at Draco again, and concluded that there was enough space for both of them on that bed.

It wasn't like she was a stranger, after all she was his wife and , she had the right to share a bed with her husband if she wanted. It was possible that she wouldn't break any rules if she lay next to him… perhaps that would even help her sleep.

And so, Hermione carefully made her way onto the bed and rested her head on Draco's chest, just as she had done so many times before in the past. It was something she missed terribly; perhaps it was just what she needed, even if it pained her that he wouldn't cuddle with her. She kissed his chest, inhaling in his aroma as she gently placed his arm around her back.

It took her a long while to fall asleep but when she did a dream greeted her. Hermione saw herself and Draco together in a deserted saloon, both dressed in their best gowns, dancing a classical waltz.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked calmly, his eyes showed concern.

"Can't I have a dance with my husband?" She ironically asked.

"You shouldn't be in here." —He explained tiredly. "You shouldn't be seeing this."

"What's there to see besides you?"

"It's not your place to be here." —He said in a monotonous voice..

"Why not? Dear Merlin, Malfoy, can't you give me one straight answer? This is my house too, I have the right to be here, and I can see whatever I want." —Hermione exclaimed. —"I can do whatever I want."

"You've done whatever you've wanted; and see where that's got us."

They stopped dancing right then, Hermione felt a rush of hurt at his words.; Draco didn't look affected at all; he looked like a lifeless puppet. His eyes were dull, there was no familiar twinkle, not his smug attitude, not his self-confidence, not joy, not love… nothing; he looked empty and lifeless.

"How can you say that?" asked Hermione as she held back her tears. —"We were doing great!"

"You came too early, but that's fine with me." —He smiled. It was a smile that implied he knew something that she didn't, that something bad was going to happen.

"What are you talking about?" —She asked as she slowly backed away from him. He walked towards her like a hunter would walk up to his prey; a prey that didn't stand a chance if she tried to run away.

"Nothing you'd like to try."—He replied, but that reply didn't answer her question. In fact, none of her questions were being answered.

Hermione's breathing was raging by the time she stopped her retreat when her back met with a column. Draco was stalking her, and soon he was right in front of her; their faces were inches apart. Hermione felt fear, something she hadn't felt for her husband in a long time.

"You are to stay with me from now on." he said as a twisted smile graced his beautiful face.

"What's happened to you, Draco?" whispered Hermione, feeling a sudden urge to reach for his face and caress him.

But before she could actually caress him, she jolted awake.

It was morning already, she noticed groggily. She sighed at the realization of what had happened, and Hermione wasn't sure if she did it out of regret or out of relief, because it had been nice to see Draco awake and doing well, but at the same time she had felt scared of him in the end of the dream.

She looked at him, heard him breathing softly and found comfort on that: he was still alive. Sitting on her bed, Hermione thought about her dream over again, feeling the urge to remember every bit, and feeling a strong déjà vu all of the sudden. Had she had the at dream before? The question plagued her mind for the rest of the day.

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A/N: Some rough chapters, I know; I am glad to know some of you like them anyway! Thank you so much for your reviews (and I'm sorry I didn't answer them all). Next chapter will be much more interesting I believe, I am just about to finish it. Don't worry much, I've got a couple of surprises for you all!

PS: Can anyone guess what the dream means?


	31. A Light of Hope

Hermione felt rested, it had been a long time, and now she regrettably crawled out of bed. She stared longingly at Draco's form. One of the reasons she had avoided visiting him was just how hard it was to leave him afterwards. She hated seeing him lay there like that

"I'm sorry, Draco, but I have to leave." She leaned down to him and kissed him tenderly on the lips. It was awfully painful kissing his cold lips, but deep down inside she wanted to believe he could feel it.

"It's for the best, trust me," she whispered and then made her way to the bathroom to change.

Once she was out, wearing fresh clothes and prepared to leave, she found a healer writing away rapidly on Draco's medical chart. She knew that man, and she did not like him one bit.

"Doctor Chambers," Hermione greeted him sourly not hiding the spite and bitterness in her voice, nor the hatred in her eyes.

"Mrs. Malfoy. A, Good morning?" The older man greeted not surprised by Hermione's demeanor towards him, nor did he seem to care one bit. "I see you are leaving, did you have a good night?"

"Why are you here?" ashe asked him ignoring his pathetic attempt of being polite. "We especially requested not to have you as my husband's healer."

"Mr. Malfoy, however, didn't mind having me as his attending healer," he replied indifferently as he examined some of Draco's charts.

"Of course, by then he fell into a coma.." Said Hermione bitterly. "Obviously he didn't have any say in it." It was absolutely infuriating, just the sight of that man made her blood boil. It had been he, who had, had the great idea of petrifying Draco in order to stop the illness from worsening.

The solution had meant to provide the Healers more time to come up with a feasible theory and solution for the illness. The problem came when they gave Draco the unpetrifying potion. The potion did not help, and had made the situation worse. This had resulted in the Healers not able to wake him up. Hermione had been furious.

"It was the best shot we had to stop his lungs from shrinking further, Mrs. Malfoy, and may I remind you that Mr. Malfoy himself agreed to it." He said defensively. He smiled sheepishly and went on, "Besides, we did succeed to slow the shrinking process."

"And that's the best you've achieved in more than a month." Hermione retorted, barely able to suppress her anguish when talking about Draco's condition. Her anger helped her to stay composed. "Where's doctor Winfrey? I like her better than you."

"She's not working today, I am replacing her." The man answered her nonchalantly. It was the typical case of a doctor who didn't care about his patients, and that was what Hermione hated the most about him.

Only the arrival of Narcissa prevented Hermione from arguing further with that healer. She left the hospital immediately, leaving all the unfriendly chatting to her mother in law, who had the very same things on her mind .

All the way to her mother's house, she thought of Draco's face in her dream, what did that dream remind her of? Hermione decided her dream had been important, and thus, she was going to analyze it bit by bit if she had to.

"Could it have been Draco speaking to me?" She asked her mother once she had finished telling her about it. In truth, she could hardly believe something of the sort, but somehow she wanted it to be possible. "Do you think he could communicate with me while I was sleeping next to him?"

Hyppolyta didn't look her usual at that moment, basically because she didn't know what her reply should be. Her daughter looked so full of hope when she told her about her dream, she didn't want to crush her with the truth, nor did she want to give her false hopes.

"I can't tell for sure, dear. Who knows if that kind of magic is even real?"

"But could it be?" she insisted again, behaving as a young child who sincerely thought her mother had all the answers. "Don't you have any idea at all?"

"I wish I could tell you I do; but no, dear, I do not know. Nor had I ever heard of such a thing, it seems quite…"

"Delusional?" tried Hermione, gritting her teeth as she said so.

"I don't think it's a crazy idea, Hermione; just… unusual."

The young girl looked thoughtful for a moment, staring into nothingness as she thought about it once again. Hyppolyta found comfort looking at her determined face, she didn't look neither angry nor sad; her daughter only appeared to be planning something big, deep inside her mind. She almost looked about to smile.

"_Unusual_ sounds good to me. After all, whatever is going on with Draco is not usual at all."

And then, Hermione got up, looking absent minded as she walked away from her mother, making her way to the library. Hyppolyta watched her back as her daughter left the room, and suppressed a sigh; worried she was, but perhaps it would be good for Hermione to focus her attention on whatever she had in mind, because, whatever it was, it sounded better than her former plan.

When Hermione entered the library, she didn't go directly for a book as she usually did; instead, she grabbed a piece of paper and a quill, and thus, she started writing:

'_You shouldn't be in here; you shouldn't be seeing this.'_ Right then it had appeared to her that he wanted her out.

'_You came too early, but that's fine with me.' _It was that sentence what troubled her the most, because it had been then when Draco had scared her in the dream.

'_You are to stay with me from now on.'_ She wrote next. Those phrases didn't say much if they were apart, but altogether they gave Hermione chills down her spine.

At first sight one could easily tell that Draco indeed was speaking to her: first warning her, saying she was doing something wrong, that she had to get out. Secondly changing his mind and saying that he was fine with that; and thirdly that…

"That he's taking me along with him?" She wondered out loud. It most certainly was a creepy thought; if one considered that Draco was indeed telling her to join him. That couldn't be any good, could it? That was what had scared her the most, that implying on his words.

Hermione pondered other possibilities then. Could it be that Draco was telling her that she was sick? She didn't think that was likely, her last checkup had been right after Draco had fallen into a coma, she was in good health.

Her imagination led her to the place they had been in: a ballroom. It reminded her of the ball that never was, that ball they had been planning together in secret. The one she was going to host on Malfoy Manor.

'_Malfoy Manor'_ she wrote next, as it seemed something important. The place reminded her of that manor after all. And then, another idea that had been revolving through her mind came out: What if everything she saw was real? What if Draco was stuck in that place? What if she had somehow got into his mind and saw him? Really saw him… That would mean he had actually spoken to her, that he had warned her… and that he wanted her to be with him?

She dropped the quill, suddenly feeling very cold inside. It was awful, it was really awful.

"_It's not your place to be here_" She said for herself in a low whisper, and then wrote it down on the piece of paper.

"It's not my place to be in Malfoy Manor?" Hermione wondered as she read the words all together over again. "That doesn't make much sense."

Or perhaps it wasn't her place to be in his head? Or… perhaps, it wasn't for her to be doing this? May be what Draco was telling her was not to get in trouble, or not to trouble herself doing a research. But she didn't want to believe that. If Draco was talking to her in code, it was because he couldn't speak in any other way, and therefore, she shouldn't think of those sentences as what they appeared to be at first sight. There had to be something else to it.

May be it had been no more than a dream and she just wanted it to be much more than that; she sighed.

'_Malfoy Manor'_ She focused her eyes on those words, and a new face came to her mind: Narcissa Malfoy; could she help her out? Hermione didn't think it would be wise to tell her mother in law about that dream, it just didn't seem right, not for her somehow. But perhaps, had her dream been a sign, going to a Malfoy would help.

Thus, Hermione made her way out of her mother's place without saying a word. She was going back to Saint Mungos alone, and she was not afraid of doing so for the first time in weeks. Nothing on her path would stop her and no one but one person.

"What are you up to?" Hermione heard Blaise's deep voice coming from behind, and turned her neck slightly to see him standing right outside a room with a suspicious look on his face.

"I need to talk to Mrs. Malfoy." she answered with an arched eyebrow, staring at him in a questioning manner. "Do you have a problem with that?"

People around her weren't acting normally, she realized. "What if I do?"

Hermione turned all of her body then in order to face him. Was he trying to pick a fight with her? That must certainly was something new, and it made no sense whatsoever.

"What in the world is your problem?"

He didn't answer her, but his angry eyes were staring deeply into hers.

"What are you playing at?" she tried again but didn't expect an answer. Hermione turned her back on him and made her way towards the door; but Blaise aparated in front of her and prevented her from going through.

"What are _you_ playing at?" Blaise asked her as she tried to get away from him. "You are not acting your usual."

"Am I not?" she asked in wonder. "And you are?"

"I am." He nodded, holding on to her shoulders.

"You are acting like a prick. Move out of the way, Blaise."

He didn't flinch, he didn't move an inch. All Blaise did was cross his arms over his chest and stare at her with defying eyes.

"I don't have time for this, honestly."

"What is _this_?" He mocked, exasperating her even further. His face changed though, from mocking to serious when he spoke next: "You come here late in the morning; stay for about an hour and then you are ready to go out again. Yesterday you couldn't get out of the house for yourself. So, what's all this?"

"I could get out, just didn't feel like it."—Hermione answered simply.—"But that's none of your business, now is it?"

"Don't try and play with things you can't handle." Blaise warned her before disaparating and allowing her to move forward once again.

Hermione stared at the empty space, blinking hardly. Had she just argued with him over nothing? She shook her head and made her way out of the manor. Hermione had no idea what was going through Blaise's head, but she had more important things to attend to.

Back in St. Mungos, Hermione went through the many hallways, ignoring all the people around her as she made her way to Draco's room. Somehow, her determination allowed her to focus only on what she had in mind, and thus, she didn't let herself crumble upon the fact of having to see Draco again.

However, once she reached the correct hall, her heart came to a halt when her eyes met with an unlikely sight. It couldn't be good, she thought, no… that couldn't be good, could it?

For the very first time in her life she saw Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks together. They were standing right outside Draco's room, hugging each other. Narcissa appeared to be fighting back tears, and so was Andromeda.

Scared to move, scared to speak, Hermione's worst fears overcame her and she fell to her knees, helpless she stared at both women. What had happened?

"Mrs. Malfoy." A nurse was soon by her side and attempted to help her up, but Hermione didn't move an inch from her sitting position on the floor.

"Draco… Draco…" She muttered, tears falling rapidly down her face.

"Mrs. Malfoy, please…"

Andromeda and Narcissa realized Hermione was present when they heard the nurse's voice, and both women turned to look at her. Narcissa was particularly surprised, and rapidly took a handkerchief to dry her eyes. Andromeda, however, walked to Hermione and put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right, dear. Draco's fine… well, as fine as he can be right now."

Hermione looked up at Andromeda's face with new found hope in her eyes. "What happened?"

"Nothing, dear, nothing." Andromeda said as she wiped a tear away. "Narcissa and I just reunited after a long time… I wanted to take this chance to see her again and help her through this rough moment in her life."

"Oh…" Hermione said. How silly, she thought; she had just assumed the worst that could have happened, in order for both sisters' to reunite again.

"The healers are performing another test on Draco, so we can't go inside right now." Commented Narcissa as she walked up to see Hermione.

Andromeda helped her up along with the nurse, who was gone soon after.

"What are they doing today?" asked Hermione, wiping away her own tears .

"I honestly have no idea." responded her mother in law. "They have brewed the same potion again, this time they changed a couple of ingredients in hopes it would work the way they want. They have two other possible potions brewed up; it's the sixth time, dear, I wish I could believe this time will work."

"Don't say that, Cissy." Her sister tried to encourage her. "They'll find something. They have to."

It was odd seeing them, both of them. They were holding hands, Andromeda was comforting Narcissa. It appeared that everything between them had been left behind, all of Narcissa's prejudices and Andromeda's pain… it was an amazing sight to behold.

It made her think of her own family… and one particular person came to her mind: Harry. They may not have been related by blood, but Harry was family. She knew that Harry could help her, just like she had helped him a countless number of times. She immediately ruled out Narcissa, she would not be of any help. Narcissa did not have the strength to listen to her ideas. Narcissa would have most likely found her ideas silly and incoherent. But Harry, Harry had to believe in her.

If there was anyone who believed in her and her skills, it was him. And at that moment, she needed Harry the most. Even if he didn't have the answers she needed, what he did have was the aptitude to help her sort through her thoughts.

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A/N: I am so sorry it took so long to update. I can't tell when next chapter will be ready, but I am working on it.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. :)


	32. What Comes Around Goes Around

Hermione had something very clear on her mind: every problem has a solution. Led by that logic, she'd never given up on her search for answers. Answers to questions such as: why had Draco fallen ill and she had not? What was deteriorating his system? Why wouldn't he wake up? And how did it happen?

She had always been good to find answers on her own, but she also admitted her friends were very helpful giving her ideas without even trying. So she called Harry for help. The boy was very uncertain of what she expected of him, but still, if he could, he would help. All he could do, however, was listen to her drabble about a mysterious dream that surely couldn't mean anything.

"We were dancing, and he kept telling me that I shouldn't be there, that I had messed it all up and now I had to stay with him. It was kind of creepy." She explained. Harry didn't look amused; what could he say really? It sounded like just a regular dream, filled with Hermione's fears and insecurities.

"You think… he was trying to tell you something?" He asked not certain of what to say.

"Why does everybody think it sounds crazy?" Hermione asked him, exasperated. It was so unfair that nobody believed her. "You of all people should understand. I mean, Merlin! You used to have dreams like this one about Voldemort!"

"They weren't dreams exactly, I just could kind of read his mind in my sleep. We had a magical bond…"

"Well, I have a magical bond with Draco as well." She showed Harry her wedding ring as she said that. "I am supposed to be able to sense him, to know where he is at all times… and to know when he is in danger."

"Do you feel he is in danger?" It was a silly question, for everybody knew Draco was battling for his life every day. But it gave Hermione something to think of.

"As a matter of fact, no. I just… I find it harder to feel our bond lately, like he is drifting away…"

"And you haven't had any more dreams." He stated.

"No, and I've tried sleeping if that's what you are wondering." She added.

"Did you ask you mother about the bonding? She might know something."

"Not more than Narcissa; my parents didn't have that bonding. And Narcissa didn't give me any useful information either." Hermione said.

Harry was silent for a moment as he eyed the notes about Hermione's dream. All together they were creepy, she was right about that one. But what if they weren't supposed to be all together?

"Let's assume this bonding of yours means you can read Malfoy's mind in his sleep."

"That's a good assumption, I didn't even think of that." Hermione realized then that she probably needed more sleep, because it wasn't a tough conclusion to make.

"Therefore, he wasn't talking to you, he was just dreaming." Harry said.

"What you are saying is that this dream means nothing" She said in quiet anger.

"Well, I can't be sure of that, Hermione. But I don't want to give you false hopes."

Hermione, however, still felt in her heart there was something she was missing. Something important. _`You shouldn't be here`_ Draco had said to her… and it wasn't the first time he said it. The other time, she had found him reading a book; Hermione didn't quite remember where that had happened, or why he had said it, but the memory of him saying it was clearer and clearer on her mind. What book had he been reading anyway? Was it even a book? She remembered then, the black book! The one she couldn't open because she didn't have any Malfoy blood in her veins… but, maybe… maybe with Draco's body… who knows.

"Thank you so much Harry!" She exclaimed suddenly, a bright smile on her face. "I've just figured what to do next."

"You're welcome, I guess." Harry shrugged, for he really had no idea of what was going on with his friend.

The next thing to do was to find that book, where could be the last place he left it? Hermione first checked Lucius' study, the last place she had seen it. The place was a mess, she had made sure of that a long time ago, when Draco first got ill, Lucius' study was the first place where she'd searched for answers. That also reminded her that the book wasn't there, she would have remembered something had she ever seen it.

So she searched their bedroom, the library, even the kitchens, but she couldn't find it. She even tried the _Accio_ spell to summon it, but it was of no use. The book most likely wasn't on the house, that, or it couldn't be summoned.

She felt disappointed. Her last hope was Narcissa Malfoy and the possibility she'd know something about the book, some way to find it. Regarding how to open it… she'd find an answer for that later.

Narcissa was, as usual, in Draco's hospital room, by her son's side, patiently knitting something.

"Why, hello there, Hermione, dear." She greeted her with a kind smile, like they were family; Hermione liked how close both of them had grown, close enough to share secrets and fears, close enough to actually be family.

"Narcissa, I need your help."

"What is it?"—She asked immediately, uncertain of what to think. It wasn't every day that Hermione asked for her help.

"I need to find a book…" Hermione said, but was quickly interrupted.

"You have already seen absolutely every book in the manor, dear, I honestly don't know how I can be of any more help."

"No, not every book. There's this book Draco told me about… he said it had been handed from Malfoy to Malfoy from generation to generation, it contains potions and spells…"—Hermione tried hard to remember everything Draco had told her without uncovering the whole truth of the circumstances in which he told her.—"It can only be opened by a Malfoy by blood."

"The book of Acastus." Narcissa reasoned with a suspicious look. "What makes you think you could open that book? Are you pregnant?"

"No, of course not." Hermione replied and blushed slightly."But I thought maybe I could try opening it using Draco's blood." Hermione answered hesitantly.

Narcissa sighed deeply and shook her head slowly. "I have already tried that without positive results."

Hermione fell to her knees right then, for her hopes had just been crashed. She stared at her mother-in-law with a blank face and an uncertain look in her eyes. What was she going to do if she couldn't open that book? Draco had been very clear on the matter, only a Malfoy by blood could open that book. The Ministry had tried countless times to do it and never succeeded to see beyond it's cover.

"Are you absolutely sure he is the only Malfoy left?"

The older woman nodded her head. "I've thought about it too, and I have studied the genealogical tree. The Malfoy name has had only male descendents every generation for the past five centuries. Many died without issue, so it's basically a straight line; the last remaining is Draco."

"If only the book could understand that." Hermione commented lamely, and an idea came to her mind. What if the book could understand? It may not have a soul of its' own, but it was able to change for protection against enemy eyes, it was capable of protecting its legacy, and right now, Draco was part of that legacy, the last one. "Can you show me the book?" Asked Hermione to Narcissa, her eyes curious with an idea.

Narcissa opened a drawer next to her and took out the little black book, it looked the same as it had looked months ago. Its cover black, its old pages showing a brownish colour, and no inscription whatsoever. Hermione took it from her mother in law's hand, and sat by Draco's bed.

"If you don't open up, Draco will die, and the Malfoy name with him. Protect your legacy and show me only whatever did this to him."

Both women were in shock when the book opened by its own and started turning blank pages until it stopped. The blank pages started slowly showing a scripture in black ink, a scripture that soon turned into letters and words.

"Dear Merlin, I cannot believe it!" Narcissa gasped, breathless. With her eyes like plates she stared at the book, totally stunned. "Are you sure you are not pregnant?" She inquired curiously. Only Narcissa could think of something of that sort at a moment like that.

"I am certain." She murmured as she read what the book had revealed to her.

"Lirium poison, it's a slow and painless death. An untraceable substance." Read Hermione.

"And rather uncommon, I may add. It was forbidden by the Ministry centuries ago. How did he ever come across it? I am certain we do not have any at the house." Narcissa declared.

Hermione shook her head in agreement. "No, the healers searched for poisons and such, they couldn't find anything that would put him in this state."

Minutes later, Hermione was informing the healers of her discovery. They didn't question her more than necessary, and thus, they started the treatment to cure the lirium poisoning. Still, it took Draco three more days to wake up.

Hermione was there the day he woke up, and so was Narcissa. Neither wanted to talk of what they were really thinking: why had Draco done that? Had Hermione been right when she thought he had been depressed? How could he? Why make something so selfish and horrible as trying to kill himself?

Very slowly, Draco opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the white ceiling of the clinic. His mother gasped and tightened the hold of his hand. "Draco?" She inquired.

"Mother." He answered weakly, and then looked at Hermione. "Hermione."

Hermione, despite being happy for his waking up, didn't smile. All she could think of was the growing anger within her: Why? Why? That was the question going around her head over and over again. And, even though she didn't think it was the best thing to do at the moment, she asked the question Draco wouldn't want to hear.

"Why did you do it, Draco? Why would you poison yourself?" she asked with anger and sadness at the same time.

"Hermione!" Narcissa said in a reprimanding voice. "We don't need to talk about that."

"Actually, I think we do." Hermione replied in her best know-it-all tone of voice, her eyes dull as she stared at them both. "I don't think I can be here any longer if I keep wondering the same thing over and over again."

"I am sorry, Hermione, mother." Draco said, and immediately after, asked for some water, for it was really hard for him to speak. Hermione didn't think he was sorry, but it wasn't the moment to argue. She just wanted answers.

As he drank the water, Hermione waited patiently for him to finish. He didn't seem eager to do it. Once he emptied the cup, he placed it on top of the night table beside his bed, glancing back at Hermione he waited a few seconds before continuing with his discourse.

"What do you think I did?" asked Draco.

"You tried to kill yourself with Lirium." said Hermione; while Narcissa glided her gaze from her son to look at Hermione with surprise and shock at the bluntness of Hermione's assertion.

Draco was silent for a single moment. "Well, that's not completely accurate."

"How so? The potion was in your book, and you are the only one able to open that book."

"You opened the book?" He asked surprised, "and it led to… the potion?"

"I asked very nicely and it allowed me to see what was harming you. But don't change the subject, Draco. Why did you do it?" Hermione's impatience was obvious.

He sighed tiredly and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking what was the best way to explain his doing. "It wasn't exactly a potion, it was more like a curse."

"What is it with you Malfoys and curses?!" Hermione exclaimed in anger crossing her arms over her chest; it was truly ludicrous.

Draco ignored her question and went on: "My dream-like state was a product of using Lirium, yes, but I didn't use it to kill myself; I used it to… conceal… some_… thing_."

"That makes total sense, using a deadly substance to conceal something while killing yourself at the same time." Said Hermione throwing Draco a furious gaze.

The man sighed and averted his shy gaze from his wife's face. "I wasn't trying to kill myself, it was just a side effect."

"I don't understand, Draco." Narcissa interrupted them. "If it was just a side effect, how come you didn't tell us what was harming you? You could have prevented this."

"No, mother, I couldn't." He answered, looking at his hands in order not to look at his mother's preoccupied face. "I did something that shouldn't have come to light."

"What do you mean?" Asked Hermione again.

"Now I am awake, it's over anyway; you'll hate me for what I've done." His tone held some remorse in it.

"I don't hate you, Draco, I just think you are an idiot." Hermione replied no longer angry, deciding that it will do for now. Sooner or later she'll have the answers she wanted and needed so badly.

* * *

It was a week later that Draco was strong enough to return home. In all that time, Hermione determined it would be wise to follow Narcissa's advise and do not try and get information from him. Hermione decided to wait until he was strong enough to go back to his senses, if he ever could.

And, truth be told, a part of Hermione didn't want to know whatever Draco had done. What was so terrible that he had to conceal it? She preferred to imagine it was something silly, some of those dark objects the Malfoys held so close with such care, something that wasn't of relevance to her, something that wouldn't make her hate him, as he had said. Even if it was something that could help the Order, she didn't want to know.

So, the first thing she wanted to do when they were finally alone, was kiss him; kiss him like she couldn't do in all those months he had been ill. Feel his warm lips on top of hers, his soft skin across her body, and the desire they both shared.

Lying down on their bed, Hermione stared at Draco. He had his eyes closed, probably about to fall asleep. He was thinner than before, for he had been eating with the help of a machine for months. Hermione couldn't forget those three months of desperation, and how hard it had been to find a cure for him. She felt resentment, but didn't want to show it, for she had just realized she loved Draco, she really loved him, and the fear of losing him scared her. So she didn't want to argue, but still, she had something on her mind that needed to come out.

"Draco…" She shook him slightly, making an attempt to prevent him from falling asleep. "Wake up."

"I'm too tired, Hermione."

"Wake up any way." She insisted.

He frowned slightly and opened his eyes slowly. "You do realize we've just had sex right after I was released from the clinic? I can't go at it again." He complained.

"It's not that."—She said tiredly.—"I just meant to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I love you, Draco. It took me a long time to realize it, and I don't want to lose you. Understand?"

In response, he leaned closer to her and kissed her profusely on the lips. When he broke the kiss, he studied her sad face for a moment. "Don't be sad, I am fine now."

"You did something very stupid, for whatever reasons that surely were stupid too. How do I know you won't do it again?"

"You've just said you love me, Hermione… I didn't think I was worthy of your love, and I still don't think so… but now I know you love me… I'll fight for you."

"What do you mean you'll fight for me? You already have me." She inquired confused. That was certainly something new.

"But I am about to lose you again." He explained and sighed.

"How so?" She asked puzzled by his words

"I did something bad… something I was hoping I wouldn't survive to face." He said.

"You said you hid something."—Hermione reasoned, "How bad can it be? Tax evasion maybe?"

"The thing is… I didn't conceal _something_, I concealed _someone_." He confessed, and soon, Hermione's eyes were filled with understanding.

"Ron." She said and gasped with a hand covering her mouth.

Draco nodded his head and expected to be either yelled at or slapped. But Hermione said nothing, she just stared at him in shock, and that shock later turned into disappointment, disappointment that broke Draco's heart. But it couldn't be compared to the despair and pain in her eyes.

"We made love… I said I loved you…" Hermione murmured, staring at him with a heartbreaking stare.—"and now you tell me… you did something to Ron?"

"I couldn't keep it from you any longer." Draco explained, not really hoping she would understand, but what else could he say?

"You bastard!" She yelled with a single tear coming down her face; it was the first time in a long time Draco made her cry. "Where is he?!"

"I don't know."—He answered seriously, completely oblivious to Hermione's scream.—"I didn't do it all on my own. I had help… but I'll find him."

"Who helped you?" She inquired angrily.

"I can't tell you." He said guiltily

"If you really care at least a little about me, which I am sure you don't, you'll tell me who else is in it with you and I'll take care of the rest, I'll find him with or without your help." Hermione stated.

"I can't." He insisted.

Hermione was silent for a moment as she tried to calm down; she breathed in and out, in and out. She closed her eyes and tried to think straight for a moment. If Draco was telling the truth, that someone was in collusion with him, would it really matter who it was? Perhaps, no, on the contrary, it'd surely make a difference, it might give her clues. It couldn't be Narcissa, for she would have known what caused Draco to fall ill. It couldn't be her own mother, because she wanted grandchildren… so it had to be…

"Blaise." She reasoned. It made sense, who else could Draco trust? Who else hated Ron as well? And who but him had been all mysterious about Draco's illness and Ron's disappearance?

Draco nodded his head and then tried to protect his friend the best he could do: "It was all my idea though."

"You are a jackass." Hermione murmured and got up from the bed, she got dressed showing her back to Draco all the time, and then left the room in quiet anger.

Next thing, she was at the Zabini manor. There, she called for Blaise, and found her mother instead.

"What is it, dear? You look all worked up." Hyppolyta commented.

"I need to see Blaise right away, mother." Hermione said skipping the expected pleasantries.

"May I know why? It would seem that you want to chop off his head. What did he do?" Her mother asked.

"He knew, mother; he knew what Draco had done all the time and said nothing." Hermione offered as if Hyppolyta knew what her daughter was talking about.

It was sad but true. Blaise had turned out to be the biggest liar. She didn't want to believe it, for he was her loving brother; but brothers could turn into traitors.

"So I take it that you know." It was Blaise who spoke, he appeared out of nowhere at Hermione's back.

Hermione turned on her heels and faced him. She was furious, furious enough to slap him on the face, but there was something dangerous about Blaise's demeanor, she only stared deadly at him. "I can't believe you of all people would do something like this. I trusted you, Blaise."

Blaise shook his head and sighed. He didn't want to be having this conversation. "I did it for you, you needed him out of your life."

"Don't even try to excuse yourself."—She said weakly—"Just tell me where's Ron."

"He's just found his way back home. He's with his parents right now." He said without remorse.

"Where did you keep him?" Hermione questioned.

"I didn't keep him anywhere in particular, I just dropped him in a city faraway without magic nor means." He acknowledged.

Hermione stared blankly at her brother. She still couldn't believe he had done something so horrible. Leave Ron, who knew nothing about muggles, wandless and alone in an unknown city? That was beyond cruel. "He could have starved to death, he could have died from the cold!"

"No, I dropped him off on a homeless shelter." Blaise explained. "Everybody thought he was crazy, searching for wands and magic, so he eventually was sent to an asylum. He was well taken care of there though."

"I never thought you could outmatch Draco, but it turns out you are the biggest bastard, Blaise." Her fury coated every word she said.

Blaise sighed and nodded his head. "You are right about that." Then he walked away, leaving Hermione alone with her mother.

Hyppolyta had a hand covering her mouth. She looked from the spot where Blaise had been to Hermione. Eventually, she walked closer to her daughter and placed a single hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Will you be okay, sweetheart?" She asked.

"I just can't believe any of this, mother."

Hyppolyta put her arms around her body and hugged her then. "Me neither." She said.

* * *

A/N: So, it's been almost a year, anyone left? Needless to say, I am sorry about the long wait, sometimes a writer goes through these blocks and there's nothing to do but wait... and it wasn't until recently that I had the inspiration to go on, and, the help of a wonderful person: eterna-romantica03 Thank you so much for your help!! PS: I recommend reading her story "Do I Want To Forgive and Forget?" here on ffnet

See you all on the next chapter!


	33. Chaos Theory

Hermione had no idea of how the Weasleys would react when they saw her, neither did she know if they would admit her in their house, but she had to go and try. She had to see Ron. She had to apologize for everything; for what Draco had done, for not searching for him, for believing he had left on his own free will, and for being mad at him.

Thus she went there, to Ron's house. It had been a long long time since the last time she had been there. It was curious how things had turned out, her life had been such a mess, and now there she was, in a place that brought her such joyful memories.

If only she could have gone there more often. But how could she face Molly Weasley? And Ginny? Besides, things with Ron had always been complicated.

So there she was, in front of the door. It would only take her a couple of knocks for someone to open it; hell, they probably knew she was there already, and they were just waiting for her signal. Hermione sighed deeply, for she forgot to breathe for a moment. She realized her heart was pounding faster than usual, and that the fist about to make contact with the door was shaking as well.

"_I can do it." _She told herself.

And thus she knocked twice on the door as her hands trembled nervously. She waited for seconds although it seemed like minutes.

To her relieve it was George who opened the door.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed surprised. .—"It's been a long time." The man appeared uncomfortable, not sure of what to say, something rather uncommon in him. Although, in truth, he had changed a lot since his twin had died. Hermione didn't find it odd that he wasn't inviting her in.

"It's good to see you, George." —She said shyly, and then, with a little stutter, she added: "I need to see Ron."

George sighed and was thoughtful for a moment. Whatever he had to say was troubling him. Hermione didn't expect any less. "Look, Hermione, it's always great to see you… but I don't think my family will be… eager to see you yet."

"I didn't know what my brother and husband did until an hour ago." —She explained in a sad voice. .—"And I need to see Ron, I need to apologize and see if he is doing well."

"Still, Hermione, you are intimately related to…"

Hermione interrupted him, cutting him short. "I absolutely refuse to be acknowledged as a Malfoy or as a sister to Blaise Zabini right now, George. And I don't think I'll ever be able to be anywhere near them any time soon." Seeing he was hesitating, she added in a pleading voice: "Please, George."

George cringed when he heard her _"please"_, it just was not possibly to resist something like that, at least not for him. He figured it would be the right thing to do anyway.

"All right, come in but, I must warn you, you won't like what you'll see."

They both walked through the living room, it was deserted. They passed by the kitchen, where something was stewing, but no one was there to be seen; before they could reach the stairs, Ginny Weasley appeared out of nowhere.

"What in the world are you doing here?!" She said in a menacing voice, looking as angry as she could be.

"Easy, Gin." George reprimanded her.

"I'm here to see Ron, Ginny. Whatever dispute we may have had…" Hermione was interrupted by the younger redhead before she could finish her sentence.

"Dispute? Are you aware of what your husband and your brother did to Ron? That's not a dispute; it's so horrible it doesn't even have a name!"

"I know." She acknowledged, "But I had nothing to do with it. I just found out today."

"It's not her fault, Ginny. You know how Slytherins work." George attempted to defend Hermione from his little sister's verbal attack.

"But she chose Malfoy over Ron! How can you be on her side?" Ginny's anger was not only evident in her tone of voice but in her darkened gaze.

"If this is a matter of sides, Ginny, Hermione has always been on our side, and you know that." George dared his sister to contradict him as his stern gaze collided with hers. Apparently, despite her anger, Ginny didn't want to defy her older brother nor could she deny the truth of his words. Hermione might be married to a Malfoy but her loyalty to their cause was indisputable. Not ready to reconcile with her friend without another word, Ginny walked out, leaving George and Hermione alone.

"I'm sorry about that, Hermione." He apologized.

She shrugged and gave him a weak smile. "I wish Ginny and I could be friends again, but that won't be possible if she cannot understand that I am with Draco for a reason."

Of course there was a reason and by not telling them the real one she had all but lied to them George, like the rest of his family thought she had married because of love, some stupid young love. Ron was the only Weasley who knew better, therefore, the only one of them who could really understand her.

"You are? I thought you were leaving him." George inquired.

"Yes, I am leaving him… again." She responded sadly.

Ron was in his room. When they got there, he was lying down on his bed, and his mother was there with him, holding his hand carefully and caressing his head with the other.

"Hermione!" She said surprised, and after a moment, her eyes became stern and her mouth was shaped in an unsecure manner. "I'm not sure if you are welcome here."

She was about to apologize to her, but Ron spoke first and prevented it.

"Hermione…" He was very surprised to see her, surprised enough to get up and walk to her despite his mother's complaints. "It's so good to see you!" He hugged her, shocking everyone in the room.

He didn't hate her which picked Hermione's curiosity. Ron, the Ron she remembered would rant and rave the minute he saw her.

"I am so glad you are fine." — She said as she hugged him back, , not wanting to let go for it felt so good to be in his arms again, after so long, after so many problems, after so much anger. She was so pleased to inhale his scent, to feel his strong arms around her body. It reminded her of better times, times she'd always associated to the Weasley household and to Ron himself. Because, even if she didn't love him in a romantic way, she still loved him as a friend, one of her dearest friends.

"What are you doing here anyway?" He asked out of curiosity, for he had not expected to see her at all.

"I had to check on you…" —She explained, barely able to speak out of shame, "I had to apologize too… it was all my fault!" —Hermione exclaimed in sadness and anger. Oblivious to the other two people in the room, she continued, :—"Had I not kissed you, Draco would have never found out, and he would have never tried to get back at you!"

"This was all for a kiss?" Molly inquired astonished, with her big brown eyes wide opened. She didn't know, as most of the Weasley family, the real reasons for which Hermione had married Draco and about the curse they shared. Romancing someone different than each other would result in physical harm.

Hermione nodded her head at Molly, ashamed of herself, and Ron said out loud: "I thought so." And, as he tried to slowly let go of his friend, he continued: "Mom, can you give us a moment? You too George."

George left immediately with a tiny smile on his face, but Molly was hesitant, imagining a whole new scenario. "Does this mean you are leaving your husband, sweetheart?" She asked hopefully.

Hermione would have just loved to be able to say yes without lying, to be able to leave him for the atrocity he had done, for it had been much worse than anything Draco had done before: not only he had betrayed her trust for good, but she also felt used. She didn't even know which was worse.

"I wish I could, Mrs. Weasley." —Hermione replied, hoping the older woman didn't ask further. Somehow, even though she didn't understand completely what Hermione had meant, she did understand something, and thus she sighed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

So, the two young friends were left alone. There was something curious about Ron's look as he stared down at Hermione, he didn't seem to long for her, he didn't appear to have resentment towards her either… he seemed just plain happy to see her.

"Something has changed in you." —Hermione said with curiosity in her voice. —"And I am not sure whether it's good or bad."

"It's good, Hermione, trust me on that." He answered with a bright smile.

"I know Draco and Blaise kidnapped you… but I don't know how.; Blaise told me he left you in an unknown city with no magic nor means. What did you do? How did you return?"

"Let me tell you from the beginning, come sit." He made a motion to sit on his bed and invited Hermione to do the same; she followed him and sat down too. He then began to explain:

"Right after our episode, I didn't come back home, instead I went out for a walk, somehow you brother and Malfoy found me, they didn't give me chance to defend myself —and honestly, it was two against one anyway. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in a chair all tied up, and Zabini was glaring down at me with a sufficient smile, you know, as usual."

"I can't believe Blaise would do something like that." Said Hermione with a hint of sadness in her tone.

"He placed a Silencing spell on me, so I was mute. After I woke up, Zabini only stood for a moment watching me, after a while he left., I realized I also had a paralyzing spell on me, for I couldn't move… anyway, hours later, both Zabini and Malfoy appeared in front of me. All I remember was Malfoy saying something like _"You'll never touch my wife again. Ever._" And Zabini knocked me unconscious. Then I woke up alone in a deserted alley; I didn't have my wand on, I didn't have money… all I had were the clothes I was wearing." He made a pause and after a few seconds went on, then "By the way, you can tell either your husband or your brother to give me my wand back."

"I'll make sure you get it back." Hermione nodded her head and encouraged him to go on.

"But it wasn't so bad because there was a shelter for Muggles nearby. I went there and started asking questions… no one had seen what happened to me, I started losing my nerves. Obviously the first thing I did was ask about wizards, the wizarding world and as you can imagine … the people there believed I was beyond crazy. Valena, one the volunteers at the shelter , realized she had never seen me before and that I definitely wasn't a homeless person; my clothes were clean, my shoes had no holes in them. Don't know why but she thought I belonged to a cult and that I needed help, so she called social services and they took me to this building I couldn't get out of, it was full of crazy people."

"An asylum." Said Hermione with her voice full of guilt.

"Yeah, that's what they called it. Anyway, they had a weird accent, so I figured I either was in a different country or at an unknown part of the UK. I spent I don't know how many weeks there until they decided to release me; other than delusional I wasn't a danger to myself or others so they let me go."

"And then? You were away for months, what did you do after they released you?" Hermione asked.

"The thing is, while I was there, this girl Valena visited me lots of times. You see, she has something for the poor and the needy… and she offered to help me. Before I could realize it, I was in love with her, Hermione, and I couldn't leave her. I explained to her I was a wizard, and magic existed, but she thought I was still delusional, so she took care of me in her own house; I got to live with a Muggle and learnt all type of Muggle stuff! You wouldn't believe it if I told you…"

As Ron continued to babble about that Valena girl, Hermione felt confused. May be because a part of her was selfish enough to want Ron to continue loving her, may be because she didn't want to share him. On the other hand, it was a good thing that Ron had had someone who took care of him, and someone he could really love and be loved back by that person.

"I couldn't find any magic in that place, and yet, I was happy. It was yesterday that I saw Zabini again, he wasn't smiling like the last time, he just stared down at me with his eyes filled with hatred, and told me it was time to go back home. Next thing I knew, I was standing outside my house." Ron finished.

"Blaise told me you had found your way home, I didn't know he had actually taken you there." Hermione added.

"I need to ask a favor of you, Hermione." Ron said anxiously.

"Anything." She said.

"I need you to ask Zabini where does Valena live, he knew where I was all the time, he knew where to look for me… he knows., Hermione, and I need to go back to Valena. I'll get to show her I was right, that magic exists, and she'll agree to be with me."

Hermione showed him a weak smile and nodded her head. She didn't want to speak to her brother, but she'd do it for Ron. The sad thing was, she felt she was losing her friend again; so she hugged him forcefully all of the sudden.

"I'll do it, for you I will." She said softly while caressing his cheek.

Ron too her in his arms again and she held on to him tightly. His hand slid up and down her back as if trying to assure her. Somehow he felt inner turmoil. There was the slightest hint in her behavior that nothing was as it should be. Aside from the fact when talking about her brother or her husband her displeasure was evident, Ron sensed there was more.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" He asked cautiously.

She let go of him very slowly, and looked at his face with teary eyes. "I told Draco I loved him, I actually realized I fell for him, Ron. And now I am heartbroken for what he did to you… he not only kidnapped you and left you with no means in an unknown place, but he also betrayed me! He promised me he wouldn't hurt you… and he made me fall for him and now this…"

He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. What could he say really? Hermione was right, she felt betrayed and it was just fair, her husband and her brother hadn't change since Hogwarts. Same old cunning, cowardly behavior. But Hermione was heartbroken, and Ron couldn't stand that, the sight of a depressed, heartbroken Hermione; the last thing he wanted for her was to be unhappy, especially considering she was throwing away her only chance to be happy.

"Well… if I had to think like a Slytherin, I'd have to say he was faithful to his promise, because he didn't technically hurt me." —He tried to reason, although he wasn't happy with his own explanation.

"Normal people aren't Slytherins." Hermione said in anger. After a short pause, she added: "Will you… will you press charges against them? I'd totally understand if you do."

"I don't think I will." —He said with a tiny smile. —"First of all, had they not done that to me, I would have never met Valena. She is the love of my life, Hermione." —His eyes shone with joy when he said her name. —"And second of all, I don't think I can put your husband and brother in jail, even if they deserve it..."

"Are you sure?" Asked Hermione with mixed feelings.

"They are your family, like it or not." —He explained. —"You see… if one of my brothers did something stupid, I wouldn't want them to go to jail either, even if they deserve it. Unless they were dangerous, of course… but I don't think Malfoy and Zabini are dangerous; it's not like they tortured me."

Hermione sighed and slowly shook her head; Ron was too good to be true. With a little embarrassment, she then said: "Mother wants to offer you money, as much as you want, in case you change your mind and decide to present charges. I am not okay with bribery, but I think you should take the money, it's only fair."

"I can't take your money." He answered simply. It was a matter of honor, and that could not be dismissed.

"Consider it a compensation." She then took a white check from her robe pocket and showed it to him. Hermione regretted her words, for she sounded like a Slytherin. But it was necessary. "You can use it to buy something nice for Valena."

He, however, rejected the check. "I have a job; I can buy her stuff if I want to. Thanks, but no thanks."

Ron was determined not to take money from the Zabinis, and Hermione respected that, even though she would have felt better had he taken the check, and so would have her mother. She wanted to believe her mother felt bad not only for the legal danger her son had put himself into, but also because what he did was wrong. But she was a Slytherin as well, so, who knows, maybe she didn't think it was wrong to do such a thing. Her mother, in many aspects, remained a mystery to her.

She left that evening with warmness in her chest that she hadn't felt for a long time. Hermione realized just how much she had missed her friend, and how much she needed him. The thought of having him back made her smile despite her broken heart.

She returned to her mother's home, the Zabini Manor, where she decided she would live for now on. She refused to think of it as her brother's manor, even though he was its' heir, because doing so would prevent her from living there. Hermione, despite loving her brother, couldn't forgive him for what he did, and it would take her a long time to do so. She didn't like much the idea of seeing Blaise every day, but it was a big house, she could avoid him. At least he wasn't trying to talk to her, unlike Draco.

Yes, there he was when she returned home. He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand; they were white roses, her favorites. But that didn't move her, not one bit. No gifts would make her forgive him.

"Please, Hermione, let me talk to you." Was the first thing he said when she saw him. She was about to turn around and leave, but she decided she was a grown up, and had to behave like one. In this case, being a grown up meant talking and throwing him out at the same time.

"I don't want to see you or hear you, Draco." She said simply, with no tears, no fears, nothing more than numb words coming from her mouth.

"I understand, but we…" His argument was caught short.

"We are bound to each other," —she finished for him. —"And that's the only reason we should be together, I know. I can't divorce you, so you figured I'd forgive you because there's no one else I can go to? Think again. I rather die alone than being with you right now."

Draco dropped the bouquet, it fell to his feet. Hermione's words crushed him, but he wasn't going to show it. He wasn't going to do like her, he wasn't going to go backwards, and he intended to go forward, no matter how long it took him. "I won't give up on you, Hermione. Despite what you might think, I love you, and that won't change."

"If you loved me, you would have told me what you did the moment you realized `_you loved me_`" She chastised

"You can understand things aren't that easy. And the matter at hand is not if I love you or not, it's just your anger towards me." He said.

He was right about that; Hermione knew Draco loved her; she just didn't care at the moment. The problem were her own feelings. How could she love someone like him? How could she ever forgive him? Did he deserve forgiveness? Was there any forgiveness in her heart? Not at moment.

"Do you really expect me to forgive you just because you bring me flowers and say you are sorry?" Hermione looked like a witch about to do some serious damage.

"No, but I ought to try." He answered simply as he knelt down to pick up the flowers at his feet. As he did so, he got up and walked up to Hermione; she had her arms crossed over her chest, and a frown on her face. "Accept this for what it is, a gift." He said.

"I don't want your flowers, neither do I want your apologies. You should start by apologizing to Ron, then we might talk." Hermione was treating her husband like the spoiled, unrepentant man that he was.

Draco cringed, he wasn't expecting that request. And he wasn't quite willing to do such a thing.

"He kissed you, he touched you, and you expect me to apologize for not killing him?" He said sure of himself.

"As a matter of fact I do." Replied Hermione. Of course she expected him to apologize, there wasn't a balance between one thing and the other. He couldn't react in the way he did for just a kiss.

"Then we are done talking." He threw the flowers away, and walked out. Hermione watched him resentfully all the way long.

As he disappeared into the chimney, Hermione realized this was going to be tough fight. The worse of it all was, neither of them could win. She felt anxious and depressed after he left, because it was a tough decision to remain fighting, because she felt betrayed, and because her feelings towards him had not changed.

Her mother walked into the room minutes later, and found Hermione sitting on a couch with a bouquet of white roses in one hand, and a single petal in the other. Her eyes were dull as she stared at the petal; she barely acknowledged her mother's entrance.

"I must warn you, dear; you are making a bad habit out of fighting with your husband."

Hermione took a moment to answer, repressing a sigh. Having any kind of conversation with her mother wasn't always easy. When it came to arguing, it was better to fight fire with fire. "Do you forgive my dad for kidnapping me?" She asked.

"I understand his reasons for doing it, but I cannot forgive him for causing us so much pain." Hyppolyta replied, acknowledging the truth in Hermione's veiled accusation although not willing to let go of her beliefs and own feelings about the whole debacle brought about by her son and Draco. "However, you cannot compare what your father did to what your husband did."

As she moved closer to her daughter, Hyppolyta realized there was a pile of petals in the floor, nearby Hermione's feet. It would seem she was wondering if someone loved her or not.

"Of course, one of the big differences was you could be apart from him; you weren't married with a curse, so you could remarry other six times with no major problems. I, on the other hand, cannot leave him for good. I am bounded to him forever." Said Hermione bitterly.

"I never married for love, though." Hyppolyta said matter of factly, and approached her daughter to sit by her side on the armchair. From that position, she caressed her head and smiled brightly. "Your brother and you are the biggest reward I'll ever have."

Hermione lifted her head to stare at her and showed her half a smile. "Thank you."

Hyppolyta grabbed her daughter's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she smiled. "Now, I only hope you will make up with your brother. I can't stand to see him like this… so distant, so angry."

"He has no right to be angry." said Hermione. She was the one with every right to be as angry and disappointed. What did he have to be angry about? At being caught? He had collaborated with Draco to do something as horrible as kidnapped her dearest friend, and he was lucky enough that Ron wasn't going to present charges against him. So, he should be just happy to have gotten away with it.

"Well, his plans were frustrated. You surely can understand that." —Said Hyppolyta pensively. Hermione wanted her mother to be on her side, not trying to protect Blaise. But how could she get in between those two? When it came to them, Hermione felt out of place, even though they had welcomed her in the family with their arms wide open, and her mother never showed any preference for neither of her children. But, still, for over 16 years it had been just the two of them, so it was hard to feel she belonged within such a small circle. "Will you at least try and talk to him, dear?"

"I must talk to him." Replied Hermione with a tired voice, for it was something she really didn't want to do. "Ron asked for information only Blaise can give me. And he wants his wand back too."

"Since the authorities haven't come here already, I take it he accepted our little gift?" Asked her mother with relief.

"No, as a matter of fact, he didn't. He's too proud for that." —Hermione considered for the second time in that day, that she was indeed sounding too much like a Slytherin. "But you don't have to worry; he won't present charges because he is in love."

"Oh, dear, you mean he still…?" Hyppolyta was immediately interrupted by her daughter.

"No, not with me. With some Muggle girl that took care of him while he was gone." It sounded like Hermione said it with a sign of regret, as if it pained her to say so. Hyppolyta noticed that, and it worried her enough to talk to her about it. After all, her daughter's happiness was one of the most relevant issues in her life.

"Honey, are you still in love with him?" She asked.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "No, I guess I just wish I had him all for myself. It's just jealousy; it only means I am selfish."

It was Hyppolyta's turn to shake her head; "No, dear, it just means you are human."

"Is that so? Because sometimes I think I am turning into…" —She was about to say Slytherin, but changed her mind. Her mother was one after all, and she didn't want to offend her. —"… into something I am not. It's probably the Malfoy influence."

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, Hermione. You are probably the most kind and gentle member of this family, and that won't change."

All of the sudden, Hermione felt the urge to hug her mother, and so she did, surprising them both, for it was not usual for Hyppolyta to receive such displays of affection from her child. And there they stood for long minutes, in absolute silence, just enjoying each other's company.

* * *

N/A: Hope you like it. Read and review please! I'm glad to see so many still follow this story.


	34. The Saddest Word

Draco Malfoy never liked arguing, neither with his friends nor with his family. He liked even less with his goody-two-shoes wife. He had always wondered why she had to be so perfect. How come she'd never slip and fall? Why did she always have to be the voice of reason and conscience? Even though he loved her, sometimes he wished Hermione wasn't right most of the time, anything that would make them even. Something to balance her goodness and his imperfection.

But there was nothing he could say or do that would make things better at once. All he had left was his insistence. All he could do was try and persuade her with his best romancing techniques. He had to come up with something, anything that would help him get her back. Because that was what he wanted the most: to be with her again.

How could he, though? No if what she demanded of him was to stain his honor by apologizing to a weasel. Malfoys never apologize to their enemies, his father had taught him that, and Draco was willing to take that advice. No, he'd never apologize to a Weasley of all people. And, if his wife couldn't understand that… she'd have to learn to stand him anyway, because there was no way in hell he'd let her get away again. Draco would follow her to the end of the world if he had to, but he wasn't willing to lose his dignity to another man, or weasel.

An entire day had passed by since their last argument, and he already was feeling an unknown urge to see her. Anxiety and fear were his predominant feelings; fear, not of her of course, but of losing her again.

"What are you doing there, Draco? I've seen you staring through that window for I don't know how long." It was his mother who asked that. What he was doing… it was hard to explain. Sometimes he'd just needed to do that to think, look to a window, staring at nothing in particular.

"I am just thinking, mother. I need to find a way to get Hermione back." Replied Draco, turning his back to look at his mother's face as they spoke.

"Well, you most certainly will not get her back looking through a window. Have you sent her flowers? That's always a good thing to do."

Draco shook his head slowly. "That didn't work the other day."

"Of course not, because you threw them at her!" Narcissa scolded him with stern eyes, taping her foot.

"How do you know about that?" Wondered a blushing Draco.

"Hermione told her mother, her mother told me. I can't begin to tell you how embarrassed I was. I did not raise you to have such tantrums, Draco; and at your wife of all people!" The woman was at the verge of yelling, but her upbringing wouldn't allow it. Instead, she made a point of add emphasis to her words. She continued: "I couldn't apologize enough, of course Hyppolyta told me it wasn't my fault, and I agree that you are the one who's supposed to apologize, but you should have known better, we raised you to be a gentleman…"

His mother was starting to blame herself, and boy, that was never good. The last thing he needed was to comfort his soon-to-be-depressed mother. He had to do something fast. Anything. The first thing that came to his mind was one of the best advices his father ever gave him about women: they were always willing to help, because helping made them feel useful.

"I need your help, mother." He interrupted her all of the sudden, surprising Narcissa, who thought that her son needed to work on his manners. Still, his words touched her heart, and she was instantly at his disposition.

"What can I do for you, dear?" She asked with a hint of curiosity in her facial expression.

"I messed up; how can I make it up to her?" He wondered raking a hand through his silky blond hair.

"I am afraid there aren't any magical formulas I know of that could help you, Draco. You will have to insist and persist, I see no other choice. Give her flowers—nicely—give her chocolates, apologize as often as you can, and, for Merlin's sake, mean it." When she finished her sentence, she stepped forward, getting closer to her son, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand you wanted revenge, dear, but… to go such extent? ? Why not just punch him in the face and threaten him or something like that?"

"You don't understand, mother; when they kissed… I was reminded of how little I meant to her, how much she despised me and the course her life had taken, our marriage. And that weasel… I just couldn't stand it." Said Draco with fury in his eyes and, specially, in his voice.

"Well, may be Hermione should hear that."Narcissa commented, and then turned around to walk away, leaving the room.

Maybe, thought Draco, but wouldn't that be showing weakness? It was one thing confessing his feelings to his mother; it was different when it came to his wife.

Draco went back to the Zabini Manor. There he was greeted by a stern face Hyppolyta who in spite of her feelings couldn't forget her manners.

"Good afternoon, Draco; are you looking for Hermione? Or may be Blaise?"

"For Hermione, actually. And I mean to apologize to you as well, Mrs. Zabini, for all the pain I've caused your daughter."

Hyppolyta shook her head slowly, with a bit of sadness in her eyes, but still maintaining the scold on her face. "I know you meant well, Draco, but I can't disagree more with you. I didn't promise you to my daughter to have her hurt like this."

"It is my intention to mend what needs mending" Said a confident Draco.

"I hope you can, for my daughter's sake." Commented Hyppolyta, and after a short pause, she continued: "Hermione had an unfortunate argument with her brother and decided she couldn't be here with him any longer; so she packed her things and left for her father's house… again."

_An argument with Blaise_; knowing them both, that meant they had a huge fight; otherwise Hermione wouldn't have left _again_. It just wasn't normal, leaving from one place to another and then to another, it couldn't be good for her. It couldn't be good for anyone.

So Draco traveled to Hermione's father's house, the place she had for so long called home. He was through accepting limits, thus he wasn't going to stall, he'd just get to the point and be as truthful as possible. He had to fly there, for Hermione had not connected her chimney to the floo network, and he didn't want to apparate, it would seem rude of him to do so. So, as he arrived there, he knocked on the door twice, and patiently waited.

A couple minutes passed by, and no answer came along. Could she be out? Or maybe she saw him and was refusing to answer the door? Both were pretty possible. Instead of insisting by knocking at the door again, he attempted to check the windows, just to see if she was actually inside. He looked through three, four, five windows, but couldn't see anybody. May be the backyard? There was a fence that demarcated it, and he couldn't just leap it. He looked around; there was no one in sight, so it wouldn't hurt if he used his broom to overlook the backyard. So he flew over to the roof of the house, and there he saw them: The weasel and his wife, they were having tea in the backyard, they were laughing.

A sudden explosion of jealousy overcame him. They were happy together; Hermione smiled at Weasley and held his hand. Why was she holding his hand? It probably was the only kind of affection they could show for one another without getting hurt. And without Draco knowing.

It hurt him to do so, but he couldn't stop looking at them; he couldn't hear them, nor did he want to, but he could imagine the sort of talk they were having, because he knew the way Hermione was smiling, and that smile… he had thought it was only for him. Crouching down on the roof, it took him several minutes to decide to leave. Old feelings accompanied him, as he thought Hermione was probably better off without him… after all, she loved the weasel, didn't she? But she had told Draco she loved him… she had been worried about him, she wanted him to live… and he was there for her, wasn't he? Could it be that she had changed her mind? No, it didn't make sense, one doesn't tell a person she loves him and then takes it back… Hermione had to love him still. It had passed a day only; she couldn't have gotten over him in one day.

He was getting anxious, he needed something… coffee! That would do. So he decided to go for a cup of coffee to a café in the wizarding neighborhood; he couldn't return home, his mother wouldn't be please to see him back without Hermione, and one woman mad at him was enough for one day.

He went in, looked for an empty table, and sat down on a dark wooden chair with a serious façade. From the outside, no one could tell how much he was hurting, but that was usual of him. Draco noticed how a woman from the bar looked at him, so interested, as if he was a prey. She was good-looking, but she wasn't Hermione, and, anyway, he couldn't have her. He was reminded then of something his wife had said some time ago, she had asked him if he had ever fancied someone else and then realized… that there was no way in hell they could be together. Well, she hadn't put it that way, but there was the idea. Right now, at that moment, he understood it, and regretted not being able to get back at her. At that moment, only a curse prevented him from doing so. Whatever was the point of that curse, he had no idea; probably make him miserable… although, seeing the bright side, it was the only thing preventing the love of his life from being with another man… or weasel.

Yes, Hermione was the love of his life, not because she was the only woman he could ever be with, but because he truly loved her; of that he was sure. And he had probably lost her. He had been waiting for his ring to burn; he was slightly surprised it hadn't happened now… Hermione and the weasel looked so close together… it should have been him the one there with her, it should have been him the one to receive her smiles. It should be him.

"Malfoy!" A familiar voice greeted him, taking him away from his thoughts for a moment. He turned around and saw someone he hadn't seen in a long time: Theodore Nott, and a serious looking girl, noticeably pregnant, by his side.

Before Draco could reply anything, Nott placed a third chair on the table and invited the girl, who was surely his wife, to sit. "How have you been? I heard you got married in quite a quick ceremony."

Great, not only he had been found by a person who should be in Azkaban, but also he had to talk to him… about his marriage nonetheless. "Indeed." Replied Draco, and turned his sight to look at the girl sitting in front of him, while Theodore sat next to her.

"This is my wife, Druscilla Nott." Said a proud Theodore.—"We got married ten months ago."

By the face of the girl, and by all he knew about the Nott family, he could guess they had been married in the same circumstances Hermione and him had. She was clearly not in love with him, in fact, it would seem she despised him. While Theodore was all smiles, Druscilla looked so dead serious she was probably upset to be there.

"My condolences." Draco said, half joking. Thankfully, Theodore took it as a joke and laughed, while Druscilla only gave him half a smile, since she realized Draco had meant those condolences for her.

"Where's your wife anyway? I haven't seen her since…"—The trials, Draco thought for himself, but surely Theodore was not going to mention that.—"…since Hogwarts, I believe."

It didn't go unnoticed for Draco that Nott had not mentioned who his wife was, he was probably omitting that information out of courtesy, because it was obvious he wanted to talk about it. Draco didn't feel like it.

"Home." Answered Draco, not that he cared about lying to Theodore Nott of all people. He wondered, however, how was his marriage like, but he couldn't ask him there, in public and in front of his wife. Anyhow, he turned his attention to Theodore's wife and smiled at her politely.—"How is it going?" He didn't mention it openly, but they all understood he was referring to the girl's pregnancy.

"Horribly."—Answered the girl, and neither of the boys at the table knew for certain if she was referring to the pregnancy of their marriage. Draco believed it was most probably the last thing.

"Come on, dear, it can't be that bad." Nott spoke, taking one of her hands in his and squeezing it gently. Draco noticed she was unresponsive to his touch, and made a face of feeling disgusted by it, but that Theo either ignored it or didn't perceive it.

"Trust me, _dear_, it can."—She replied to him, not looking at him in the face, and clearly saying dear without any feeling whatsoever.

Now that was a marriage he was glad he didn't have. He knew Nott, not too much, but well enough, and he was sure of one thing about him: he was no good, ten times worse than him. Nott's wife probably suffered a lot, because her husband was no easy person to be with, he wasn't like Draco, patient and polite, he was more aggressive and dangerous. He wouldn't have waited for his wife to care about him, he would have forced her. That would have led to hatred, and it was clear Druscilla hated her husband. She wasn't just pissed, like Hermione had been so many times at him for so many different reasons, she just hated him, and couldn't get away from him.

"So, boy or girl?" Asked Draco, feigning interest while at the same time trying to change the subject.

"Thankfully a boy." Curiously enough, they both answered the same thing at the same time. They looked at each other after that with raised eyebrows. The scene would have probably been funny had there not been such tension on the air.

"…So I don't have to have any more." Finished Druscilla.

"And my family will have a rightful heir to go on with the family name." Said Nott. He smiled proudly, and then continued talking to Draco.—"You know, if your wife had a girl…"

Druscilla bit her lip, but said nothing. She was probably scared of her husband, so it wasn't like she could speak her mind. Draco, on the other hand, wasn't scared of Nott. "Are you kidding? Just having a kid would be too much to ask of her."—_And, if we did, no arrangements would be made… and less with a Nott_, thought Draco. There was no way in hell he would commit either a boy or a girl to a Nott.

"How come?" Asked Nott.

"She's just not into it. She wants to study and then get a job; she's all modern, you know." Replied Draco shrugging. In truth, he wasn't sure Hermione wanted kids, he was surely more eager than her.

Both Notts looked surprised, but neither spoke. "Not that we need the money, it would just be a hobby for her." Said Draco in response to their unspoken question.

"Well… your wife always was… very interested in studying." Commented Nott, and his wife was picked by curiosity.

"I've never met her, but she sure sounds like an interesting person." Said Druscilla. "Do you think we could meet? I'd love to invite her for tea." She was asking for permission to her husband, now that was an ugly sight to see.

"Sure, darling. That would be great." Replied Theodore and smiled at his wife; it was the first time Draco saw the girl returned the smile. She probably wasn't allowed to have much of a social life.—"In fact, we should all have dinner together sometime."

Hermione wasn't into social gatherings, so she'd probably refuse the invitation; it would be good for her, however, to meet Mrs. Nott, so she could realize just how lucky she is to have him as her husband.

"I'll talk to her about it." Said Draco in response to Theodore's suggestion. He had no idea of how he'd convince Hermione to go, but she had to forgive him someday…

Theodore was slightly amazed, probably because he couldn't conceive having a wife that didn't take orders from her husband. And his wife looked melancholic, she'd surely want a husband like Draco.

After chatting with the Notts for a while, Draco decided to go again to Hermione's house. He didn't care if she was still with the weasel, he'd interrupt them. His ring hadn't burned after all, so they hadn't been too close. And that was a good sign.

So, for the second time that day, he stood in front of the door of Hermione's house. He didn't consider that house his, even though it technically was, because it had always belonged to Hermione. Anyhow, he knocked on the door, not aware that there was a bell.

Thankfully, Hermione opened the door. There was a slight frown on her face when she saw him. "What are you doing here?" She asked tiredly.

"What do you think? I'm here for you." Replied Draco, crossing his arms over his chest.—"Look, I know I messed up again; but can't we at least talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"—She questioned.—"I don't want to have anything to do with you."

Draco bit his lip for a moment, and then continued: "Yes you do, you love me as I love you. You want us to work out. You are just pissed."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. She didn't want to lose her patience; neither did she want to see her husband at that time, but that just how life was for her. She wasn't going to get what she wanted.

"You are not even able to apologize for what you did and yet you want me to listen to you." It was ana statement filled with irony and aggression

"If I apologized to him, it wouldn't mean anything because I don't give a damn about him."—He said in a determined manner.—"I can apologize to you, however, and mean it."

"That's supposed to be touching?" She asked with sarcasm in her voice.

"It's the truth." He said sourly.

Hermione remained there, staring at him with a serious face. Well, at least she was making eye-contact, thought Draco.

"Come on, Hermione; we won't get anywhere if we go on like this."

She was about to say something, but clearly changed her mind and said something different: "All right, do come in." Hermione stepped aside to let him pass. When he went in, he could see what a mess that living room was: it would seem no one had cleaned since the place was put under quarantine. There was dust everywhere, stains of orange smoke, and a curious smell to old wood.

Draco was about to ask if he was supposed to sit there, but he thought it twice and decided not to. Still, he'd rather stand.

"I know, it's a mess. I haven't had time to clean the entire house." Commented a tired and upset Hermione. She was unconsciously standing next to Draco, staring at the living room as he was.

"You know, you don't have to…" He started, but was soon interrupted.

"I know I don't need to clean by myself. But I like doing it; it's one of the few things I have left of my old life." Said Hermione; curiously enough, there didn't seem to be any melancholy in her voice, she was just plain serious.

There was tension in the air, it was pretty clear. Draco stepped closer to Hermione and stood in front of her. She arched an eyebrow and eyed him with a curious look; in any other circumstances she wouldn't have minded, but right now he was too close for comfort.

"Don't" She whispered as she realized Draco was getting closer to kiss her. "You can't mend things with a kiss."

Draco sighed and gave one step back. "How can I mend it?" He asked.

"I don't know."—She said honestly.—"I just don't know." Hermione shrugged as she said that, and her features showed sadness. Draco wanted to reach for her and comfort her, but she wasn't going to let him.

"Let me try."—He said, and then remembered Theodore's invitation.—"An old friend invited us to dinner, we could go."

"An old friend?"—Hermione said suspicious.—"Most of your old friends are in Azkaban." She arched an eyebrow and waited patiently for his response. It was clear he didn't want to answer that question, and yet, he did.

"Well, yeah, most of them. But this one had a very good defense in the trials and… well, he got away." Uncomfortable, he finished his sentence, hoping for a miracle.

"And why in the world would I want to have dinner with… who is he anyway? Do I know him?"

Draco nodded his head and gulped. "Theodore Nott."

Hermione opened her eyes wide and stared at him in surprise. "You want me to have dinner with Theodore Nott?! Are you joking?"

"And his wife, Druscilla; I'm sure you'd like her." Said Draco and sighed deeply. "Of course, if you don't want to…"

"Of course I don't want to. For Merlin's sake, Draco, why in the world would you think otherwise? And what were you doing talking to that guy? You are not supposed to meet with former Death Eaters!" She exclaimed.

"I was at a café and he came to me; it wasn't my fault. I couldn't ignore him."

"I don't want you to meet with that kind of people, Draco."—Said Hermione with a new emotion: worry. She was preoccupied for him; that couldn't be bad.

"So you care about me?" He said with a smug smile, and made Hermione sigh in desperation.

"Of course I care about you… I love you, you idiot." She murmured in a soft voice.—"I just can't find it in my heart to forgive you yet; why did you do it, Draco? Why?"

Then, Draco remembered what his mother had told him: _`May be Hermione should hear that`_. And he was resolved to tell her, right then, at that moment; even if it hurt his pride to do so.

"When you kissed him…" He said the words with spite, as if the memory hurt him. "When I found out, I was reminded of how much you despised me, and I couldn't bear it, Hermione. I wanted you to care about me, I wanted to have a life with you, but I didn't know how to… and Weasley, he had it so easy, and you loved him and not me… I had to get him away from you."

"You had no right." said Hermione."I can understand your jealousy, I can understand your anger… but I cannot understand how you could do something like that, then lie about it… and be with me? We were together for months, and all the joy you brought me turned to… to this. It's like… It's like being with you was a lie."

"It wasn't a lie." Replied Draco, taken aback by her words. In truth, he hadn't thought about it like that. "Our life together has never been a lie, Hermione."

"Hasn't it?" Asked her with a grimace in her face. There was a short pause in which she tried to choose her words very carefully, then, she continued: "We've had rough lives, and an especially rough marriage. I fell in love with you, but when that happened, I thought you were different, that you wouldn't betray me."

The words echoed in his mind and run down to his heart; it hurt him deeply to hear her say that. Had he really caused so much pain to her of all people? He stared, dumbfounded, at her beautiful brown eyes, she looked so sad, and it was all his fault. How could he ever mend it? How could he ever forgive himself? And then people wondered why he didn't care about risking his life with a concealment curse.

"I am so sorry, Hermione." This time, his apology sounded so sincere it actually caught Hermione's ears " I never meant to hurt you."

She stared at him; he looked so vulnerable, Hermione had never seen him like that. Draco Malfoy always had walls built up around him, walls very difficult to penetrate. There were only a few true emotions that he showed, such as joy and anger; but… hurt? In his mind, and in his mind only, showing hurt meant showing weakness, and Malfoys were not supposed to show weakness. At least that's what he always said. Surprised by her own feelings, Hermione wanted to reach for him and comfort him, when it was actually her the one who was supposed to be hurt. Something, however, stopped her, and Draco closed his hands in fists, hurting his fingers in the process.

Before Hermione could say anything, he spoke: "I want to make things right. So I won't ask you to forgive me. Goodbye." After saying that, he turned around and walked away. Hermione watched him as he left, unable to speak.

Once the door was closed behind him, Hermione seemed to regain consciousness, and repeated his last word in her mind. Why had he said goodbye?

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

a/n: So, here it is. Next chapter is the last one! So be prepared :)


	35. Final Chapter thus ends

There was a strong smell of liquor and dirt in that bar, noises of laughter and an unnecessarily loud music. It was a horrible place to be at, and yet, people there seemed to like it. What was it that they were looking for? One could tell by just looking at them: men, women, money, or, sometimes, as in Draco Malfoy's case, they just wanted to be alone in a multitude and forget their pain.

He wasn't the type of person to hang out in a bar, neither was he the type of person to get drunk; he was good managing his drinking, but that day, he wanted to get drunk. He wanted to get drunk enough to forget why he was even there and then wake up in some deserted alley with no idea of how he got there. Or, better yet, not to wake up at all.

Wouldn't it be nice? To go to sleep peacefully and never ever wake up? Sometimes, when one's seriously depressed, that idea can easily cross your mind. And why not? Perhaps if he ingested enough alcohol… his liver would fail and he could just die.

Dying would bring relief, both for him and Hermione. If he died, she could just go to that idiot Weasley and marry him and live happily forever after.

"Anything else I can get you? Maybe a lift home?" Asked the waitress in front of him. She was beautiful, with her long red hair and blue eyes, her large red lips and white teeth underneath. She had a tattoo on a side of her face, long dark lines with a root-like shape. He wanted to reach that tattoo and touch it; he wanted to check for himself if it was truly moving like a snake.

"Is your tattoo moving or am I too drunk?" He asked, half concerned, half curious.

"You are too drunk." She replied trying to repress a sigh of disgust.

"You know," He started saying, "you don't really need that tattoo, I bet you'd look better without it."

"Thank you." Said the girl, "But I like it the way it is."

"I've just realized what you can get me." Suddenly, he smiled brightly. "Another drink."

"I think you've had one too many." Insisted the waitress, a concerned look upon her pretty face.

"You know what the problem with you women is?" He asked, but expected no replies and went on immediately. "You always think you are right. And I need another drink." So, he pulled out his wallet and offered a considerable amount of galleons to the girl.

The waitress was tempted to accept them, but, instead, she preferred to be the better person. She noticed the ring on his finger, and decided the man could use a little talk.

"Problems with your wife?" She asked him.

"Tell me about it." At this point, Draco was barely able to think straight. "I'll tell you all about it and more if you get me another drink."

"I won't get you another drink. And I am sure your wife wouldn't approve of you being here."

"You know her?" He arched an eyebrow, suspicious. Could Hermione have a spy on that bar? Being that drunk, any crazy thought was possible.

"I've never seen you here before, and I can guess you are not the drinking type. Therefore, your wife probably would have a problem finding out you've been hanging around a bar."

"Well, guess what: my wife is the almighty Hermione Granger. She doesn't forgive anything." He claimed, unable to look at the girl in the eyes, he pressed his hands against his forehead.

"Hermione Granger? Harry Potter's best friend?" The girl exclaimed surprised, suddenly, a few of the people around went silent and stared at Draco and the waitress. Both ignored them.

"Why is it that everybody thinks of her as Potter's best friend? Why can't they think of her as my wife? She is a Malfoy for Merlin's sake!" He almost, almost yelled, but his vocal cords were flooded with alcohol. If that was even possible.

"Well, she is national hero." The waitress reasoned, still surprised. "You should be proud to be with her."

Draco nodded his head slowly for it hurt a little. "I should, but I don't really care about that." He explained. More heads turned to listen to him, some with anger in their eyes, others with awe. "I just happen to love her for whom she is, not for what she's done."

"Oh, Draco." To his own astonishment, it was Hermione who said that. He quickly turned around, blushing slightly which was probably due to the alcohol, although it could also be from embarrassment. There she was, standing among a dozen people who stared at her in many different ways: some smiled at her and greeted her with kind words, others whispered among themselves, shocked to see her, and others toasted in her honor. Draco was surprised himself to realize just how much appreciation was there for his wife.

"Your wife is pure goodness, Mr. Malfoy." He heard someone say. "Congratulations" said others.

But Draco ignored them all; he only had eyes and ears for his Hermione. She looked so beautiful, even with all the blurriness around her, and the double sighting that made her look like she had two heads. "Hermione!" Clumsily, he got up from his seat, and trying not to lose his balance, he walked up to her. "What are you doing in here? This isn't a place for you." He managed to say.

Looking at her closer, he realized she had a slight frown on her face. It seemed she couldn't breathe as she would have liked to. "Neither for you." She replied. "Let's go home, Draco."

"Home?" He laughed, hard. "Which one? There's your parents' house, your mother and brother's, our Italian manor, our French chateau, Malfoy Manor…"

"Of course I mean Malfoy Manor, Draco." She said, disgusted by seeing him in such a deplorable state. "Sweet Merlin Draco! How much have you drunk?"

He stepped closer to her and rested his chin on her shoulder slowly allowing all of his weight be supported by Hermione's body. She held her arms open for him, fearing he might fall if she didn't hold him. "That girl over there said I had one too many." He whispered in her ear.

"Do you think you can manage to Apparate?" Hermione asked him repressing a sigh.

"Not without throwing up." He replied in a funny mood.

Hermione sighed, it wasn't like Draco to get drunk. It had been only one hour since their little episode; she had not liked one bit that "goodbye of his", she thought it over and feared he'd do something stupid for the millionth time. So, after a while, she decided to try and use their bond to find him. "Come on, Draco, let's get out of here."

It took them longer than usual to get out of the bar, since Draco had a hard time walking by himself, and it was a tough job to help him, since he was much taller and heavier than Hermione. At least he was in a good mood, she thought, it would be harder to stand a depressed drunk.

"You know, I think that waitress was hitting on me." He commented to Hermione while they walked down the busy street. Hermione was trying really hard to help him walk, and didn't feel like laughing.

"I think we have more important things to talk about." Mumbled a tired Hermione as they both continued walking in direction to a park just a few blocks away from the bar.

"Don't you worry; I like you better than her."

"I know." She said rolling her eyes. When they reached the park, Hermione helped Draco who had been leaning on her the entire time sit down on a bench. She remained standing in front of him.

Draco was fighting his urge to fall and sleep either on the floor or the bench.

"Why did you get drunk?" Hermione asked, arms crossed over her chest, annoyance on her face.

"Why did you come to rescue me?" Draco retorted, probably thinking it was a good answer.

"You are my husband." She said. "I feared for you."

"Is that so?" He wanted to stand up to face her and have a better look at her, but his eyes hurt and he couldn't feel his legs. So he remained there, trying with all of his strength to continue looking into her eyes. "I thought you came because you cared about me;" He said, and then, on a second thought, added: "or may be to scold me."

"You know I care about you, Draco."

"Because I'm all you can have?"

Hermione had wondered that same question a thousand times. She was sure she loved him, but what if she had a choice? Somehow it didn't seem to matter anymore. "No, because I love you. And I don't want to lose you again."

Hermione unfolded her arms and let them hang loose for a moment before she sat down next to her husband. Draco was still staring at her, she did the same. "So you forgive me?" He asked with curiosity in his voice.

His wife remained silent, thoughtful as she stared into his grey eyes. It took her a moment to open up her mouth to speak: "What if I do forgive you? What will you think? Won't you wonder if I forgave you because I don't have any other choice?"

"Never mind, I probably don't deserve your forgiveness anyway. I behaved like an idiot. But it's hard being with you, you know? You never behaved like a proper wife," Hermione decided to let that one pass. "You never made it easy for me. I had to fight my way to your heart, a heart which had already been claimed by someone else."

"I know." She said honestly, and slowly rested her head on Draco's shoulder. He was surprised by her attitude and didn't know how it would be best to react. It would be better to see it as something positive, he thought. Hermione continued speaking: "It took me time to realize it, but now I know that, if I had a chance, I would choose you over Ron any day."

"And why is that?" He asked suspicious. It was surprising indeed to hear her say something like that, and somehow hard to believe. But Hermione was pure goodness, as they had told him before at the bar, she wouldn't lie.

"A long time ago I realized you made me feel good about myself in so many ways Ron didn't. With Ron, I had to be very careful not to make him feel inferior, so I had to try and keep a low profile around him. With you, I feel I can be myself, we can fight, we can argue, we can do stupid things, yes, both of us and yet you always accept me for who I am. I know Ron loved me sincerely, as I loved him… but I can't help but feel you are a better match for me, intellectually and even emotionally. You said it once, we are more alike than you think. Now I know it's true."

A strong pain spread all over his head; so he slowly tried rubbing his temple. Hermione noticed this and unattached herself from his shoulder. She stared at him worriedly, and once again asked: "Why did you get drunk, Draco?"

"I wanted to forget about you, about the pain I caused you, and forget how stupid I was." '_And may be have a liver failure'_, he thought. "And so far I haven't achieved it."

Hermione considered his words carefully, and after a long pause, she spoke again: "Will you promise me, Draco, you'll never lie to me again? No more deceiving?"

Draco reached for one of her hands and held it on his own. He stared at their entwined hands for a moment, and then looked up at her face again. "No more deceiving." He said, and she kissed him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------15 years later.

A child was running along the gardens of Malfoy manor, she giggled as much as she could while she run. She was a very beautiful 4 year old, with straight blond hair that reached barely above her shoulders, her hazel eyes were sparkling as she gazed around innocently, pale white skin like porcelain; her tiny legs were barely fast enough to keep up with the game. It was just her luck that her brothers allowed her to participate.

A boy, barely three years older than her, saw her and ran up to her. He was very much like his little sister, with his pale skin and straight blond hair, his eyes, however, were grey. "Come on, Hecate, run!" He reached for his sister's hand and grabbed it, intending to make her run faster.

Both children aimed to hide behind a tree. This tree was wide enough to keep them both out of sight for a while. They were panting when they managed to get there. Hecate immediately sat down on the ground, not minding if the grass stained her sky-blue dress.

"Don't sit, Hecate. We haven't got time to rest." They boy said impatiently, although he was also tired of running. Sweat all over his face and clothes.

Hecate stared at him. Her smile was now replaced by childish worry. "I am tired, Darien." She said lamely.

"Well, just half an hour ago you were whining because you wanted to play with us. Now that you are playing are you going to give up?" He asked kind of exasperated, although he'd never lost his patience with his little sister.

"No, I am not giving up". She said with a determination very similar to that of her mother. Then, she looked up to the top of the tree. "Do you reckon we can climb the tree? They won't get us up there."

"Unless they see us and climb to catch us, we can't run up there." Darien replied; and then, added in a hurry: "Come on, Megara is coming."

Megara was their cousin, a Zabini with dark brown wavy hair, her skin was white, but not pale white like the Malfoys', she had a slight tan. Large eyelashes adorned her flecked green eyes. Much taller than her little cousins, she was eleven years old, the eldest of her sisters. Dressed in a green dress that matched her eyes, she approached them before little Hecate could start running.

"Wait!" Her yell made them stop suddenly, and the older girl took her chance to throw tiny water-filled-balloons at them. Both balloons collided perfectly with the children, who were instantly soaked wet. "You're out!" She said between laughter, for her youngest cousins were easy to fool.

"That's not fair!" Yelled Hecate, about to have a tantrum. She looked up to her cousin with angry eyes, her childish voice could be heard miles away. "I thought there was something wrong."

"That was the idea, silly." Replied Megara as she stepped closer to both of them. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and used it to scrub Hecate's face. Darien was already scrubbing his face with his hands.

"How come Julian and you always win?" Wondered the little girl.

"Because we are older." Replied Megara. Julian was the eldest of the Malfoy children, at thirteen years old, however, he considered to be too old for childish games.

Megara grabbed Hecate's hand and held it lovingly, she did the same with Darien; he walked them both across the immense garden up to a deck with chairs and little tables were the grownups were chatting. Draco, Hermione, Blaise, his wife, Narcissa, Hyppolyta and Julian were sitting there. It was a family gathering that they had every week, in which the adults would talk and the children would play; all except Julian, who preferred to read his magic books, very much like her mother used to do. In fact, he was there reading, only looking up to laugh at his sister's face.

"Daddy, I lost again." Complained Hecate to her father. Draco Malfoy had to suppress a laugh. Megara let go of her cousins' hands and walked with a bright smile on her face to her own father. Draco took his wand out and murmured a drying spell for his two soaked children.

"There you go, now you can play again." He replied, but Hecate shook her head, she didn't want to play anymore, instead, she went to her father and sat on his lap, resting her head against his chest. Her little brown eyes were stern with fury.

"It's just a game, sweetie." Interjected Hyppolyta, trying to reassure her.

"Yeah, besides, you'll get better when you grow up." Said Darien as he sat between both his grandmothers. The older women loved to spoil their grandchildren, and were already offering him tea and scones.

"When I grow up I won't like to play games, like Julian." Hecate stated. "I don't want to ever grow up." She said.

All the grownups laughed, and even Julian smiled. Julian was a tall and thin boy, with brown curly hair like Hermione, and grey eyes like Draco's. Even though he was almost a carbon copy of his father, his attitude was very much like Hermione's: calm and focused, always determined, and just as bright—if not brighter. He was constantly reading, it was his life's obsession. When he was little, it was child's books, as he grew older, he realized he had to get ready for Hogwarts, and started reading magic books. At thirteen years old, he was in his third year at Hogwarts, and was the top student of his class. Unlike his father and brothers, he wasn't interested one bit in sports. He liked flying though, but he preferred reading above anything else.

"You'll simply find out there's more to life than playing games, Hecate." Said Hermione, smiling sweetly at her daughter. As the youngest of 4 children, she was the sweetheart in the family.

The child listened carefully to her mother, however, she did not want to believe her words. She wanted to play forever and ever. She couldn't understand why grown-ups were so distinct from children. Why didn't they like running in the sunlight, chasing butterflies, and building castles in the sand? Why was it that all they did was talk? Had they forgotten how good it was to be a child? According to her favorite brother, Darien, children changed when they arrived to Hogwarts, the school changed them. His theory was based in the fact that Julian used to play with his brothers until he had to go to school. Ever since then, they only saw him on summers, and he wasn't eager to enjoy life like he used to. So, secretly, Hecate didn't want to go to Hogwarts, for she feared it would change her. But she couldn't tell her parents, she didn't want to disappoint them; they were already discussing in which house she would be, they already had one child in Slytherin, and the next one, Lysander—who was eleven years old—had just received his letter; their mother was betting he'd be a Gryffindor.

Lysander, however, wasn't anything like Julian, or his mother for that fact. Actually, he was more like his uncle Blaise. Fun-loving, always eager to take part in games, mischievous. He had his mother's eyes, dark blond hair like his grandmother Hyppolyta, but straight like his father's. At the moment, he was playing around with the rest of his cousins. The Zabinis had four daughters, and a fifth on the way—for Blaise's misfortune it appeared he'd never have a son to continue with his part of the family legacy. There was nothing in the world that Hyppolyta loved more than spending time with all of her grandchildren.

Hyppolyta was holding a two-year-old baby girl, with dark brown hair and big blue eyes, dressed in a tiny pink dress with violet flowers. Darien was making faces at his baby cousin. Hecate was thoughtful for a moment, she stared at the baby, and then at her aunts' growing belly. Her uncle and aunt picked all Greek names for their children: Megara, the twins Ariadne and Athena, and Persephone. Hecate, although she wasn't a Zabini herself, had a Greek name, unlike her brothers who had Latin names. They had told her it was a tradition going through generations from mother to daughter, calling the first-born daughter with a Greek name starting with H, it was the way the women had to pass on their Greek legacy. Hecate had been named after the Greek goddess of witchcraft, which was rather appealing for the child, since she had started showing her magical abilities from a very early age. The Ministry had complained about Hecate dozens of times, but it wasn't her fault, she couldn't control her magic, and neither could her parents.

Dinnertime was approaching, and the grandmothers started calling for the rest of the children to get into the house. As the grownups were getting up and leaving the gardens, Draco and Hermione held hands and smiled at each other. With so many children, they rarely had time for themselves; it was one of those moments in which they appreciated how much they had accomplished together.

"I love you, Draco." Hermione whispered in his ear, ignoring the children giggling and running around them.

"I love you, Hermione." He replied and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Despite all of these years, he still tasted the same, he still felt the same way. And so did Hermione. Right then, as the sun was setting and their family was all reunited, it was one of those rare moments of her life in which she actually was glad that her mother had made her marry him.

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N/A: So, this is it. Anyone else sad that the story is over? I am, I just can't believe I won't have to write BCM anylonger! It's been so long since I started it, it took me so long to finish it, now I'll have to focus on my third story (which I'll first publish in spanish). I thought for the ending I'd write something nice, since it's all been so full of conflicts in this story, what do you think? I hope the ending was good enough for you, my dear readers. Thank you all for reading, and reviewing. :)

PS: I've just published "A Gift from the Future" in English, you can see the first chapter here in . I invite you all to read it, it's the story I am focused on translating now. :) It's about a child who travels back in time without ever knowing he did so, and he gets to meet his mother, whom he had never known of. Obviously, his parents are Draco and Hermione ;) One of the many questions in that story is, how will those two end up together to produce a child in only three months time?

PS2: Special thanks to all of my beta readers; in orden of apparition: Molly, Gittika, Elena and Katherine. This story wouldn't have been possible without you!

Lots of Love, Nebel Engel.


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